


Through Our Eyes

by jrml210



Series: Glassy Eyes Series [4]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe, Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Angst, Bottom Draco mostly, Drama, Eventual Happy Ending, Explicit Sexual Content, Friendship, Gay Sex, Hallucinations, Heavy Angst, Horcrux Hunting, Hurt Draco Malfoy, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, Love, M/M, Mind Control, Mind Manipulation, Not Canon Compliant - Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows, Oral Sex, Pining Draco Malfoy, Pining Harry Potter, Possession, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Protective Harry, References to Depression, Romance, Rough Sex, Switching, Threats of Violence, Top Harry, Wall Sex
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-12-21
Updated: 2018-09-01
Packaged: 2019-02-18 04:08:01
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 12
Words: 48,111
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13092090
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jrml210/pseuds/jrml210
Summary: The search for the horcruxes continues, as does the fight against Voldemort. Harry and Draco are together at last. But at what cost? As they struggle to survive a war that threatens to tear them apart, Draco also fights his own internal battle. Because Draco knows Mors is not gone yet—either love will save him or the darkness within will take control.





	1. Chapter One

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: This is purely a work of fan fiction, so unfortunately I cannot claim the lovely characters of Harry Potter or Draco Malfoy, etc. They are characters created and owned by J.K. Rowling, and I do not claim any ownership over them or the world of Harry Potter."
> 
>  
> 
> Thank you so much to the readers who have continued this journey with Draco and Harry and thank you for not giving up on this series, which I promise will be completed. 
> 
> Hope you enjoy! Xx

April

 

Harry waited in a chair beside Draco’s bed. His posture was slumped and his green eyes were haunted as they roamed over the boy’s pale features and across the crisp white sheets that covered the blond. The slim, black robes Draco had been wearing when he’d first been brought in had been replaced by white nightclothes, provided by the Infirmary, making him appear even more sallow and ghost-like.  

Harry watched as Draco’s chest moved up and down as he breathed softly. The sound was rhythmic, almost soothing. The sight of the blond’s steady chest lifting and falling almost distracted Harry as he felt his thoughts drifting.

He knew he should’ve felt more apprehensive than he did at Draco’s reappearance. What should have been a joyous reunion was hampered by the fact that the last time he’d seen the blond, Draco had threatened to kill Harry.

No, not Draco. Mors.

Harry had to remember that.

Still, he was happy at Draco’s return. He was. At least, he thought so.

His love was back. Draco was alive. He’d survived the horrors and Merlin knows what at the hands of those Death Eaters and his crazed aunt. It was a miracle Draco had lasted so long, and with not even a scratch or mark to show it.

Harry had been in the room when Madame Pomfrey had examined Draco, too, so he knew that for a fact.

There wasn’t much evidence left over from what Draco must’ve suffered. He didn’t even have any curse scars. Voldemort, or one of his lackeys, must have healed Draco after they’d tortured him. Harry had no clue as to why, but he was determined to find out once Draco awakened. There were so many questions he needed to ask Draco.

After Madame Pomfrey had diagnosed Draco’s fainting due to extreme magical shock and drain of his magical core, she’d placed him into a heavily sedated sleep so that he could recover.

That had been just over two days ago.

All the while, Harry had barely left his side. He slept in the bed next to Draco’s, the elves had brought by Harry’s clothes and necessities, and he only ventured out of the room to grab some food from the kitchens a few times. Other than that, he hardly moved two feet away from Draco.

“Mate?”

Harry turned slightly to see Ron and Hermione standing a few feet away from him. Their expressions were concerned as their eyes shifted between him and Draco.

“I thought Madame Pomfrey had lifted the sleep spell this morning,” Hermione said.

Harry turned back towards Draco. He watched the steady chest move. Up and down, up and down.

“She did.”

Ron frowned. “Then why…?”

“He doesn’t want to.” His voice was as expressionless as his face. Harry could feel it. “She said that the damage to his magical core had been healed and that his magic levels are normal now. Physically, he’s perfectly healthy. He should’ve woken up. She says that the only reason he hasn’t is because his mind doesn’t want to face reality just yet.” Harry’s voice trailed off near the end.

“His mind needs to heal,” said Hermione. “He must’ve suffered so much. Who knows what they did —” Her voice broke off with a wince, and her hand twitched slightly as if to cover her arm.

Ron started at the small movement, moving swiftly to place his arm around her. He stroked her shoulder gently, giving a soft smile as Hermione subconsciously leant into his embrace.

Harry watched them for a moment before looking back towards the white sheets.

“It might be a long while until he wakes,” he murmured to them. “You should—”

“Harry, we need to talk,” Hermione said sternly. Her voice brooked no argument. “It’s been several days now, and the Order is growing concerned at our lull in defeating You-Know-Who. We also need to talk about our plan of action now that Draco has been found. Several Order members recognized him when we brought him to Madame Pomfrey, and there are whispers at how his appearance matches that of Mors.”

Harry glanced at her. “What are you saying? They can’t do anything to him.”

Hermione shifted slightly. “Well, as soon as he wakes, they want to ask him about his whereabouts and what he may know —”

“ _’What he may know’_? Hermione, he was tortured!” Harry cried, suddenly furious. “Do they think he’s a murderer or that he voluntarily became captured by the Death Eaters? What, they think he was over there playing tea or something?” His eyes blazed with fury as he glared at the both of them.

Ron and Hermione took a quick step back as they noticed the room beginning to shudder.

“Mate, calm down.”

“No, Harry, of course no one thinks that. We know that the Death Eaters kidnapped Malfoy by force. But the Order has a right to be concerned, and they just want to ask him some questions,” Hermione tried to assure him. “It’s not supposed to be an interrogation.”

“It sure sounds like one!” Harry growled.

“I’ll be there to make sure it isn’t,” Hermione replied soothingly. “Remus and Tonks will be there, too, and they’ll understand, Harry. We all need to concentrate our anger on the real enemy, and everyone knows that. We just want to know what happened to him and whether he has any important information he can give us about the Death Eaters and You-Know-Who.”

Harry’s ire was slowly calming, and the walls of the room quieted as he slumped back into his chair. His green eyes stayed determined, however. “They can’t touch him,” Harry said harshly. “I don’t care what he did, that wasn’t Draco. He was being controlled.”

“How, though?” Ron spoke up. “And how did Malfoy even find us if You-Know-Who doesn’t know where we are?”

“We won’t know until he wakes up,” Hermione sighed. Then her voice lowered, and she motioned for the boys away from Draco’s bed. The trio moved over to a corner of the room. “Until then, we should concentrate our efforts on other matters. Like the horcruxes.”

“Hermione, we have no other leads except for one being in the Malfoy vault,” replied Harry, his voice still slightly severe from before. But Hermione only smiled.

“Actually, you’re wrong about that. Shortly after Malfoy was brought in, I spoke to Luna about possible horcruxes.”

“You didn’t tell her—?”

“Please, Harry, let me finish,” Hermione scolded him for his interruption. “Honestly, I’d asked her if she knew of any objects that would be precious enough for someone to want to find at Hogwarts. We ran through a list of several items belonging to the Founders. Luna is very knowledgeable in historic matters, you know.”

“Surprising. She must be a Ravenclaw,” Ron chortled.

“Hush, Ronald. As I was saying, we ran through this list and found several noteworthy items. For Hufflepuff, we already had a strong feeling that Helga’s cup might be the object in Malfoy’s vaults. It was one of Helga’s most precious items and it was passed down through the Hufflepuff family after her death. It eventually found its way to Hepzibah Smith, a descendant of hers, who kept the cup as a priceless heirloom.”

“How did You-Know-Who get it then?” Ron asked her.

“When he was younger, You-Know-Who visited Smith, who showed him the cup as well as something else.”

“What?” Harry asked, impatient.

Hermione only grinned. “Smith was also the owner of Salazar’s locket.”

The boys’ eyes widened.

“But then Tom must have stolen both from Smith!” Harry exclaimed. “The cup has to be in the vault then.”

All three of them were grinning with anticipation, excited that they’d finally landed a breakthrough in finding the rest of the horcruxes.

Hermione wasn’t done. “That’s not all,” she said excitedly. “When running through a list of Rowena’s belongings, we found an object that fits the criteria for being a Horcrux. It’s precious, it’s small, and it belongs to one of the Founders. Luna knows where it may be, too.”

“Bloody brilliant!” Ron cried, grinning.

Harry shared his enthusiasm as he beamed at her, too. “Excellent work, Hermione!”

She blushed, but was smiling wildly as well. “It feels great, doesn’t it?”

“What about Rowena’s object?” Harry asked her. “Did Luna mention what it could be?”

Hermione nodded. “Yes, she said it —”

They were suddenly interrupted by a loud, bellowing scream, making them all jump and turn to see the source of the noise. Where Draco had been lying down, they could see that the covers were in a heap in the middle of a now empty bed.

Harry raced across the room instantly, rounding the edge of the bed to where the screaming was at its loudest.

He stopped abruptly when he saw a figure huddled on the floor, gripping his blond hair and shouting wildly with an open mouth. Harry winced at the noise but he crouched low to where Draco was curled in on himself. Harry didn’t dare touch him but he tried to meet the boy’s eyes. His breath caught slightly at what he saw. Haunted gray eyes stared ahead. They were glazed and faraway, seeing something that Harry could not.

“Draco,” Harry said softly, heart wrenching at the sight of his love trembling on the ground before him. “Draco, please, it’s me. It’s Harry.” The screaming seemed to dissipate in pitch, but Draco still appeared to be in another world away from Harry. “Draco, please love. I’m here, you’re safe. You’re at Hogwarts now. And I’m here with you.”

It took a few more words of comfort and reassurances before Draco’s screaming lessened into frightful whimpers. His eyes squeezed tight and his knuckles were white as they clenched fistfuls of his hair.

It hurt Harry to see Draco like this. He couldn’t stand to keep his touch away from Draco any longer, and he lowered himself until he was sitting next to the blond. He moved slowly as he brushed his palm against Draco’s. The boy stilled for a moment. His breathing hitched, too.

Harry’s own breath caught as Draco refused to move for a few minutes, but he silently waited. His patience was rewarded when Draco finally unclenched his fists and lowered his hands. He raised his head slightly, and for one heart stopping moment, their eyes met.

“Hey,” whispered Harry. He gave the blond a soft, welcoming smile. He hoped it worked to put Draco at ease and he watched as gray eyes dropped a fraction and stared a bit, before they rose to meet Harry’s again.

“Harry?” Draco whispered, his voice sounding fragile and scratchy. But his eyes were clear of whatever storm bothered them before. His shivering stopped, and the blond seemed much more aware of his surroundings than a moment ago.

Harry’s breath left him in a sigh and his shoulders dropped with relief. He gave a heartwarming smile to the other boy.

“Yes, Draco. I’m here.”

“Where are we?” Draco questioned, eyes reluctantly leaving Harry’s to look around the room.

“In the Infirmary. At Hogwarts,” Harry answered.

His words seemed to startle Draco a bit, and wide, gray eyes quickly turned back to Harry.

“What?”

“You’ve been in a healing coma for two days,” came Hermione’s voice from behind them. Harry turned to face her, but Draco seemed to freeze the moment her voice sounded. It was apparent her appearance frightened him for some reason and Hermione quickly backed away, taking Ron with her.

“Hermione, what —?”

“We’ll go and inform Remus about Draco’s waking up, then,” Hermione said as she and Ron moved towards the entrance to the Infirmary. “You should tell Madame Pomfrey, as well. Although she may have already put specific monitoring spells in place,” she added, sharing a look with Harry. She gave one last smile to the pair of them before she and Ron left through the door, with Ron’s bewildered look the last thing Harry saw before the doors closed behind them.

Relieved at being alone, Harry turned back to Draco. Gray eyes still looked alarmed and wary but as soon as Harry turned back to him, the storm within them seemed to calm further.

“Harry?”

“It’s alright, I’m here. But we’d better move you back to the bed,” Harry said, standing with his hand stretched towards Draco. The blond blushed a bit, chagrined at his earlier actions, and went to take Harry’s hand. Gently, Harry steered him until both boys were sitting atop the mattress. Harry made to turn back towards the chair beside the bed, but a tug on his hand stopped him.

“Stay,” Draco pleaded. His frightful gaze tore through Harry and he hurried to sit next to Draco, keeping their entwined hands together.

“I’m not going anywhere, love. I’m staying here with you.”

Draco closed his eyes, seeming relieved. His shoulders loosened. But when he opened his eyes again, they still looked troubled. “Harry, I’m sorry,” he sighed.

Harry had been stroking the skin of Draco’s palm and staring softly at the side of Draco’s head, but he stilled at his words.

“Draco?”

The blond was shaking his head and his hands were trembling again. “I’m sorry. So sorry, for everything. I-I didn’t mean to—”

“Hey, hey,” Harry said, sitting up quickly. He held Draco’s face in his hands and stared at him hard. “Draco, wait, listen to me. You did nothing wrong.”

“No, I did!” Draco cried, ignoring Harry. “I was supposed to stay with y-you, and then… I-I k-killed… so many people. And I hurt you! How can you even look at me—?”

“Draco, no, that wasn’t you. I know that,” Harry tried to reassure him. “It was Mors. I know that.”

“No, Harry, you don’t understand—”

“Listen, Draco, you are not a killer,” Harry said sternly.

The words seemed to freeze Draco. The blond didn’t move at all, and Harry slightly panicked that he must have said something wrong.

But it was like a dam had broken, and Draco suddenly began sobbing uncontrollably. He turned his face into Harry’s chest and began to scream. His screams of heartache and delayed rage tore through Harry like nothing had before, and all he could do was hold Draco to him as the blond was obviously in pain. It sounded through his painful cries and tears. And Harry felt helpless as he could do nothing but hold Draco as he rode out the agony that tore through him.

Flashes of chains, wands, and hungry eyes tore through Draco as he yelled and yelled against Harry.

Blood, _so much blood_. He was covered in it. He had to get away. He couldn’t dirty Harry…

But he was selfish. He didn’t want to let go of him, and his fistfuls of Harry’s shirt grew tighter as he pushed himself closer to the other boy. He didn’t want to let go. He couldn’t, or else he’d surely be lost.

Harry couldn’t leave him. Not again. Where would he be without Harry? The boy who would always save Draco.

He loved Harry.

He always would. His Harry.

“…Harry.”

Harry looked down at the sound of the blond sighing, and realized the blond was asleep. Fresh tear tracks dotted his pale eyelashes and streaked down his face. But if not for that, the boy appeared in a peaceful sleep.

Harry knew better, and his chest clenched at the thought of Draco falling asleep while crying. His hugged the boy closer against him as his own eyes began to sting at the thought of what events may have transpired to reduce Draco Malfoy to weeping loudly into Harry Potter’s shirt.

He didn’t know the entire story yet, but Harry would eventually find out. When he did, Harry promised there would be serious hell to pay. Voldemort, the death eaters, and whoever else was responsible to doing this to Draco would die a slow death if Harry had his way.

But the blond was safe now, lying in Harry’s arms. He was at Hogwarts. Voldemort had no way of touching them while they were safely and secretly hidden. And this time, Harry would make sure no harm would come to Draco while they were protected inside the castle.


	2. Chapter Two

Screams. So many bloody screams.

And blood. It was everywhere, covering him, filling him to the brim. He could practically taste the copper in his mouth and Merlin, he felt like he was drowning in it. It was everywhere.

It was so dark. He didn’t know where he was. It was cold. He was alone.

Where was Harry?

But Harry had abandoned him, he remembered now. He was a monster. He’d killed. He’d murdered innocents. He was a killer. And Harry couldn’t stand him.

“ _You left me. How could you? Draco, you left me behind_.”

Harry’s words seemed to echo around him as chains abruptly appeared, biting into the skin of his wrists and hoisting him above a massive pool of blood. Hands belonging to Inferi reached through the blood and began to claw at him.

Draco began screaming, crying out in terror at seeing the bloodied hands reaching for him.

Harry’s voice reverberated in the space.

“ _You left me behind_ …”

He had no choice! Draco wanted to yell out. But the Inferi were getting closer. They were going to get him. They were going to tear his skin and drag him inside. He was going to die. Alone. And no one was around to save him —

Draco sat up, a scream halfway in his throat.

Time seemed to suspend itself as he sat there, taking in and trying to separate dream from reality.

It wasn’t real. It wasn’t real. It wasn’t real.

A moment passed before he slowly realized where and when he was. His body shook wildly and he heard his own pants of air fill the dark and otherwise quiet room. Draco quickly forced the scream down as he took in his surroundings and realized how it was just a dream. A nightmare.

Draco was sure it wouldn’t be the last one he’d have. Even now that he was awake, he felt plagued by the remnants of the dream. His skin felt tainted and his mouth still tasted of copper. His forehead was dotted with moisture, and he felt utterly disgusting in his sweat soaked clothes and unclean skin.

He needed a shower. He needed to wash his skin.

Draco pushed the sheets away, kicking his legs around the edge of the bed so that he could stand. His legs felt a bit wobbly but he was able to walk past Harry, who was back in his chair beside the bed and sleeping soundly. Draco’s steps were quiet as he walked to the back of the room, where the blond vaguely remembered Madame Pomfrey having a separate full bathroom with a walk-in shower for patients.

He hurried over to the stall and turned the water to its hottest setting, ignoring the peripheral image of his reflection in the bathroom mirror. Draco dared not look at himself and see the disgusting blood that covered him. He knew he needed to wash it off.

After wandlessly casting silencing and locking charms, Draco slipped out of his clothes and placed them folded on the sink counter. Then he climbed into the shower, heedless at first at how the scalding water hit his skin.

Draco stood there, feeling numb as he watched the steam rising around him. He conjured a washcloth and began to scrub his body harshly. He needed to get rid of the blood before Harry woke up.

He scrubbed and scrubbed, until his skin felt slightly raw. But the blood was still on him. Washing it away wasn’t working. Draco could feel it oozing as it covered him. He was still a killer.

 _You’re guilty_.

Draco squeezed his eyes shut, nearly breaking down at the flashes of earsplitting screams and pleading faces that seemed to echo inside the shower stall. He remembered the panicked and heartbroken cries of women and children; seeing the light fading from their eyes as he took their lives.

He scrubbed and he scratched. His skin was burning now.

But the memories wouldn’t go away. The blood wouldn’t wash off. And Draco knew it never would. He wanted to collapse.

He stayed inside the shower for a while, scraping heedlessly at his skin and nearly sobbing when he realized that he’d been in the bathroom much too long. It was almost time for either Madame Pomfrey or Harry to wake up. They’d see he wasn’t in his bed.

Grudgingly, Draco shut off the hot water. He felt drained and shaky as he stepped from the stall and gathered his clothing. He still felt unclean. He didn’t know what to do. Next time, he’d try harder…

A sudden knock on the door made him jump.

“Draco?”

The blond winced at Harry’s voice, and he quickly waved his hand to dispel both the steam and the spells around the room.

Draco opened the door to see Harry with his hand half raised to knock again.

“Er, hey,” said Harry, green eyes bemused. He glanced behind Draco once before settling his gaze somewhere below Draco’s chin.

That’s when Draco realized he was completely nude except for the mound of clothing he clutched in front of him, and he watched as an angry flush filled Harry’s cheeks.

“Oh! Er, I didn’t mean… I was just —”

Shame made Draco’s cheeks fill with pink and he quickly looked away to avoid eye contact. He hated that Harry was seeing him like this.

“I was just taking a shower.”

Harry’s eyes widened. “Of course! I’ll, er, just leave you to it then.”

“I just finished.”

Harry’s blush grew brighter, and his eyes seemed to focus in on the water droplets that beaded Draco’s chest.

“Erm, I see that.” Draco glanced up. “I mean,” quickly corrected Harry, stammering. “I’ll leave you to get dressed. Madame Pomfrey just wanted me to tell you that she’s ready to check you once you’re done.”

Draco nodded to show he understood, and went to close the door.

“Wait,” Harry’s voice stopped him. He looked sheepish suddenly and although his cheeks were calming to their regular color, his neck and ears remained flushed. “Did you need any help?”

Bemused and slightly distressed, Draco shook his head. “I’m fine. I just need to get dressed.” He needed to cover up his dirty skin.

Harry nodded and finally let him go, quickly turning away to return to the Infirmary. 

Sighing, Draco closed the door. As he put the white night clothes back on, the material scratched at his reddened sensitive skin. Draco ignored the discomfort, vowing silently to do a better job next time he had a chance.

Once Draco was clothed and felt himself presentable enough, he entered the room to see the Madame and Harry near his bed. He crossed over and sat so that the Matron could commence with her scans.  

“And a good morning to you, Mr. Malfoy. I see you’re awake,” she said, eyeing him sternly as she waved her wand over him. “You should have alerted me last night as soon as you’d awoken,” Madame Pomfrey chastised them.

Harry guiltily glanced away at the other boy; Draco remained quiet while she worked and stared straight ahead. Bemused, Harry stared at the pair of them. He wondered at the quiet way the blond was acting. Compared to last night’s tears and screaming, Draco seemed calmer this morning — almost too calm, more aloof.

Perhaps Draco was embarrassed of how vulnerable he’d acted the night before, Harry speculated silently to himself. The boy he remembered from school would’ve hated to see himself break down in front of others.

But Harry wasn’t others and he wasn’t just anyone.

He and Draco were lovers. Weren’t they?

Harry knew he had no right to assume even after nearly a year later, but surely Draco was still his?

It hurt Harry at how unsure he felt. Without their bond to tell him how Draco was feeling, he had no idea what was going through the blond’s head.

They needed to talk, that much was for sure. After Pomfrey finished, Harry needed to know what had happened to Draco and whether Mors was gone.

Right on cue, the Matron stilled her wand and the colorful spells whirling around Draco dissipated.

“It seems that your magic, Mr. Malfoy, is near to normal levels. Although, I do notice they’re much higher than when you were a student here.” Her eyebrows were raised, demanding an explanation as she looked hard at Draco.

Harry watched the other boy for his reaction, but the blond didn’t seem to notice as his gaze seemed to slide past the Matron. His eyes were blank and his voice was dull when he spoke.

“And?”

They both stared at Draco.

“Mr. Malfoy?”

“And? What else did you find?” Draco’s words were curt, and his gaze seemed to sharpen as they focused towards Madame Pomfrey.

The Matron looked carefully at the boy, but there was a slight pity in her gaze. “Other than your magic levels being abnormally higher than the average, you are physically in good shape. There is evidence, however, of previous trauma and malnutrition. You show no signs of present injury except for a few scratches, which I healed easily when you’d first been brought in. But your mind…” She frowned heavily at Draco. “The aura around your cognizance is severe. There appears to be gaps in your memory and areas of high stress, leading me to believe you may have developed dissociative amnesia from… whatever may have occurred to you.” Her voice slightly hesitated near the end.

Harry’s eyes were wide as he stared at the pair of them. “Draco?” he asked tentatively, yearning to reach out a hand so he could touch the other boy.

“I’m alright,” Draco said, but he looked and sounded further from it. His face was a few shades paler than a moment ago. “Is that all?” His question seemed insistent and Madame Pomfrey’s frown seemed to deepen further.

“I’d have to conduct further tests to narrow the results —”

“What kind of tests?” Draco brusquely demanded, eyes hardening.

Harry looked sharply at Draco. Madame Pomfrey didn’t seem to approve of his tone either, but she answered nonetheless. “There are specific measures and screenings that you must undergo, and I highly recommend seeing a Mind Healer with a more advanced training since I do not specialize in this area —”

“No.”

Madame Pomfrey’s eyes widened and she seemed physically taken aback.

“Excuse me?”

“I said no,” Draco repeated in a hard voice. His eyes narrowed at her. “I am not seeing a Mind Healer.”

“Mr. Malfoy, in order for a proper diagnosis —”

“I don’t care,” Draco spat at her viciously. “You said that I’m physically alright, is that correct?”

The Matron pursed her lips. “Yes, Mr. Malfoy. I’ve already administered potions for the malnutrition, but your mind —”

“Then I’m leaving.”

Abruptly, Draco stood up straight and did a quick motion with his hand. Instantly, his patient garments materialized into his previous worn black robes and shoes. He brushed past Madame Pomfrey, ignoring her outburst of dismay, and continued through the doorway of the Hospital Wing. Draco knew Harry would follow him, and sure enough he soon heard the boy’s panting behind him as they entered a wide corridor.

“Draco!” The boy’s footsteps sounded loud as Harry ran after him. “Draco, what the hell?” Draco slowed down his stride so that the other boy could catch up him, which he did, panting quite heavily and glaring at him. “What was that? Why were you so rude to her?” Harry asked him, somewhat angrily.

The blond frowned at Harry. “What?”

“Madame Pomfrey was just trying to help you. Why were you such an arse to her?”

Draco rolled his eyes. “Please. She didn’t tell me anything I didn’t already know, she just confirmed it. She can’t help me.”

Harry looked bemusedly at him. “How do you know that? You didn’t even let her try.”

“Why are you upset? I thought you would’ve been relieved to get out of there so that we could finally be together in _our_ room and talk,” Draco said, raising an eyebrow as he abruptly stopped walking.

Harry started, quickly taking in his surroundings and realizing that he was standing in the wide corridor next to a certain tapestry that depicted a group of dancing trolls. He glanced over and saw the door begin to materialize and, despite himself, Harry couldn’t help the small smile that graced his lips.

He hated to do it but Harry forced back the argument he’d have with Draco for later. He’d question the other boy about his harsh reaction towards Madame Pomfrey but for now, the blond was right.

Draco was back. It was time for them now, in their room. Together at last.

Harry glanced over to see the same soft smile on Draco’s lips as the other boy gently took his hand. The blond’s touch ignited a spark that raced through Harry’s nerves, making his smile grow fond as green eyes bore deep into gray.

In that moment, nothing mattered except for the two of them and Harry suddenly had no doubt that there was another connection or bond that linked them in some way. There was no other explanation to how they could’ve found their way back to one another after everything, and how right it felt just standing together again. Draco was home, and Harry was so happy to be with him again after such a long time away from him.

He felt a tug on his hand, and Harry smiled softly as Draco began to walk towards The Room of Requirement. The blond looked back at him, giving a small wink and a faint grin.

“Ready?”

Whatever happened next would forever change them, Harry knew that. He still had to tell Draco about everything that had occurred in his absence: leaving Privet Drive for the last time, Hedwig and Mad-Eye dying, finding and destroying the locket, learning of Helga’s cup.

And Draco was going to tell Harry what had happened to him. He was going to tell him about Mors.

Harry shivered.

Draco seemed to have felt it. He turned slightly and paused. His eyes grew sad as he looked over at Harry, seeming to read his thoughts, like always.

“Scared, Potter?”

And that was exactly it. Even after everything, Harry was scared. Some Gryffindor he was, yearning to take Draco and run away with him. A part of him didn’t want to find out the truth. He didn’t want to hear of the horrors that Draco went through. Because he knew it would hurt. Harry hadn’t been able to save Draco, even after promising him that he would. He’d failed. Instead of listening to Draco’s story, he just wanted to hold the other boy and protect him from anything else that would harm him.

But no, Draco wouldn’t allow that.

Even now, staring into those soulful gray eyes, he could see that the boy had changed. He’d matured. He’d grown. They both had.

Now they were together, even after all they had both suffered. And this time, they would stay together. They’d face anything that came for them. As one.

“No,” Harry said, wanting to believe his own words.

But Draco seemed to understand, and he squeezed Harry’s hand once comfortingly before turning and walking into the room.

Harry took a deep breath, needing a moment. But he knew that Draco needed him. Harry needed him, too. He always would.

Harry looked forward and let the pull of Draco draw him inside the room.

The door closed behind them.


	3. Chapter Three

Draco wasn’t so naïve to think that the moment Harry walked into the room, everything would suddenly make sense and feel normal between them. For one thing, he knew pieces of his memory were missing. There was so much Draco didn’t remember.

He didn’t know how long it’d been since he’d last seen Harry. Draco felt like he’d been with him just yesterday, but he knew that wasn’t possible; some time had passed, and Draco could see it in Harry’s eyes. Something had changed.

Draco couldn’t remember why he’d been gone from him. He had difficulty recalling what had happened to his other House mates, where his parents were, or why he was at Hogwarts again. He couldn’t remember much past blood, screaming, and agonizing pain.

But somehow none of that mattered, because there was one thing that Draco was sure of and that was Harry. Despite everything, he remembered the speccy git, scar and all.

Draco was already seated in the corner of one of the couches, waiting patiently for said speccy git to walk in and sit down. He was amused at the way Harry glanced around the room, which was magically arranged into their usual space, before his green eyes landed on Draco. The blond was pleased to see how bright they were as their eyes met.

“Hey,” Draco said softly, mesmerized at the sight of Harry’s soft smile.

The Gryffindor chuckled lowly as he seated himself on the couch across from the blond. “Hey.”

They simply stared at one another for a moment, taking in the other’s presence in a gratifying, unfamiliar way. It was an understatement to say that it’d been awhile since they’d last seen each other. What did one say to one’s lover after being separated for almost a year and on separate sides of the war?

“Your hair is longer.”

The words seemed to just slip out after Harry’s eyes had studied over Draco’s form, which he’d also noticed had filled out some in the last year. Draco’s loose blond hair seemed thicker than before, now reaching past his ears and grazing his neck. He looked… different. Harry knew Draco had always been handsome and striking, in a dignified way. But now he seemed to have a different air about him, and Harry wasn’t entirely sure what to make of it.

The blond quirked an aristocratic brow at Harry’s comment, and smirked slightly. 

“Yours too,” he quipped back.

A warm flush came over Harry’s face and his hand flew up to rub at his slightly bearded chin. “Er, yeah. Didn’t have much time to shave, you know?”

Something flickered over Draco’s expression, but it passed too quickly for Harry discern it before the blond gave him a bemused smile.

“Actually, no, I don’t know,” Draco said, a bit of bewilderment leaking in his voice as he spoke. His confident countenance suddenly seemed to shake. “I…I don’t actually know what’s going on, Harry. I don’t really remember….” His breathing increased, and there was a suspicious glint in his eyes that Harry was starting to recognize as the beginnings of a panic attack. “I woke up and I was in the Hospital Wing… But I don’t know why…? And I keep seeing these horrible visions and hearing screaming… And there’s this voice inside my head —” A slight manic gleam was entering Draco’s eyes now and Harry sat up quickly to move towards Draco. He grabbed Draco’s shoulder, turning the blond to face him.

“Draco? What do you mean?” Harry asked, automatically slipping back into battle-mode that he’d been in for the last several months. “You don’t actually remember —?”

“I remember you,” Draco gasped out, feeling almost overwhelmed at the everything that was Harry — from his striking emerald eyes to his commanding magical aura. Draco almost forgot the heated sensation that came from being near Harry. But Harry’s magic seemed to have grown as well, because while it’d felt like a warm and comforting flame before, now it was like a scorching overload on his magical senses. “Harry, I remember you.”

“And what else?” Harry demanded, that unnerving feeling from before slowly returning. “What else do you remember?”

Draco tried to shake off unwanted visions of pain and blood as he tried to organize his muddled thoughts. But he was having trouble.

All he could remember was Harry. That’s it. Just Harry. Draco’s whole being was centered around Harry. Harry Potter. But as to why, he did not know. He belonged to Harry. And Harry was supposed to belong to him.

“Harry, I belong to you,” Draco said aloud, and the words felt right coming out of his mouth. They felt perfect. Like his whole purpose centered around Draco being with Harry.

But seeing Harry’s disturbed expression told Draco he must’ve said the wrong thing.

“What else, Draco?” Harry asked again, concern growing in his voice. “Do you remember Hogwarts? The wizarding world?”

Draco scoffed this time. “Of course, I remember Hogwarts and —”

“And magic?”

“Yes, and magic —”

“And your parents?”

Draco’s mouth closed. His mind drew a blank.

Parents?

Draco Malfoy’s parents. What happened to his parents again? What were their names?

“I…”

Harry’s eyes grew round.

“Draco, what is your last name?”

Draco smiled. Finally, another answer he knew. “Draco Malfoy.”

“So, your parents’ names are…?”

Draco thought hard, but the memories seems fuzzy and far away. “…Malfoy?” He felt a bit alarmed at how Harry’s eyes grew further, and at the way Harry’s voice shook as he spoke next.

“Madame Pomfrey mentioned some sort of amnesia, but I didn’t think…” Harry turned away, his hand slipping from Draco’s shoulder as he quickly stood up. Draco watched as the other boy began to pace in an agitated fashion, and at how Harry’s hands slipped down his face and then curled through his hair, tightening and pulling in frustration.

“Draco, other than me, do you remember nothing else?” Harry asked, voice slightly panic-stricken. “Do you remember the other Slytherins? Dumbledore?”

The blond’s brows furrowed. “Dumbledore?” Harry stopped and looked at him. “I-I don’t know. But I remember you and your friends. I remember objects.” Draco stood up and quickly crossed over to Harry, grabbing the other boy’s hands and taking Harry by surprise. The blond’s eyes were earnest as they looked at him. “But does it matter what I don’t remember? All I need to know is right here. I’m finally with you. I found you.”

“But what about your kidnapping?” Harry demanded. “Draco, do you remember anything after the Death Eaters took you? Do you even remember the war?” He paused, his expression turning hard during his next words. “Draco, do you know who Mors is?”

Draco winced noticeably, wrenching his hands from Harry and forcing himself to turn away. His mind felt entirely blank, but at Harry’s words it suddenly felt full and began to hurt from a bombardment of memories.

Screams, blood, pain, _more_ screams, torture, death, darkness, and _more screams, screams_ , _screams_. Someone was screaming.

“Draco!”

He did remember a war. A war between Harry and a heavy darkness that was evil. He remembered people in a dark, small chamber of a room. They were not good people. He remembered they did horrible things. He remembered pain. So much pain. Torn flesh. Broken bones. So much blood.

He was covered in it again. It was everywhere, filling him from the inside out. And worst of all, he was enjoying it. Relishing in it.

“ _Draco!_ ”

Draco’s eyes opened, and he abruptly realized that Harry was holding Draco against him as the blond screamed incoherently into his chest. He quickly swallowed the rest of his screams that wanted to escape, burrowing his face deeper into the warmth of Harry’s chest as his arms came up to wrap around the boy’s back.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” Draco could hear Harry whispering into his hair. “I didn’t mean to, I should’ve known….”

Draco wasn’t entirely sure what wrongdoing Harry must’ve done, but didn’t think too much on it. His head was still hurting badly, and he didn’t dare try to recall what just happened and why it did.

Draco knew he was botched up. He must have lost his memory somehow. As Harry had said earlier, as well as the Matron from before, he must’ve developed some kind of amnesia. He was grateful he at least remembered Harry, though. His whole being was focused on the boy, and he couldn’t imagine where he’d be right now if it wasn’t for that.

“I need to talk to Hermione.”

Draco started at the familiar name.

“Who?”

His question seemed to deflate Harry further, and the boy’s embrace around him grew tighter.

“A friend of mine,” Harry said shortly. “We need to figure out why it seems you can’t remember anything.”

“I remember you,” Draco felt pressured to point out again.

A soft sigh was released against his hair. “Yes. And while I’m tremendously glad it seems you haven’t forgotten about me —”

Harry stopped.

Concerned, Draco looked up and he frowned at the seriousness in Harry’s expression.

“Draco… what do you remember about me?”

A blond eyebrow raised itself.

“What do you mean?”

“How did we meet?” Harry asked him, a deep frown unsettling his handsome features.

Draco thought deeply. His head was still hurting and sore, but the ache was diminishing with every passing moment. Still, his mind drew a blank.

“I don’t know…? I assume here at Hogwarts.”

Harry’s facial expression was hard to read at the mixture of emotions that crossed it. Disappointment, surprise, concern, hope.

“Why do you say that?”

Draco gave an elegant shrug. “I remember this room. And I remember seeing you in this room.” A few short memories flitted through his mind. They weren’t long enough for him to recall the events fully, but they were quick pictures that told him enough. Draco smirked. “I remember us doing… things.” A heady warmth filled Draco then. The feeling was somehow familiar and foreign at the same time. It excited Draco and an unbidden grin came to his face. “I remember us kissing… and touching. And I remember us arguing as well.” His grin grew into a smirk. “You were a speccy git of a Gryffindor, weren’t you?”

Harry merely gave him a forced smile in return. “I’m glad that it seems you haven’t lost your sense of humor, at least.” Despite his words, Harry seemed extra tense.

Draco didn’t know what to do to make Harry feel better. He felt helpless in Harry’s embrace. He wanted to kiss the boy and reassure him that everything would be alright, but he didn't understand how.

“I’m sure it’s only temporary,” Draco attempted. “They have magical cures for amnesia, don’t they?”

Harry shrugged, burrowing his face into Draco’s hair as he released a heavy, shaky sigh. He heard Draco’s words, but they seemed so far away. Draco seemed so far away, even if the blond was right there in his arms. This person felt like and sounded like Draco, and he knew he was the real thing and not some polyjuiced or dreamt up incident. But he was different. This was not how Harry had wanted to reunite with him. And Harry felt so selfish for thinking such thoughts when it was obvious Draco had suffered so tremendously, enough to lose his memories. He hadn’t chosen to develop amnesia; he was clearly a victim to the horrors he must’ve faced, and must have forgotten to save his sanity. Harry was fully aware of the price people paid while fighting a war. And he absolutely hated that he’d failed in saving Draco. He’d promised the blond and he hadn’t even kept him safe.

He winced reflexively at his thoughts, his eyes clenching, his mouth tightening. “Merlin, Draco.”

The blond looked at the other boy, and the guilt he saw in Harry’s eyes concerned him. “Harry?”

“I failed you. I’d promised to protect you and I _failed_ you, Draco,” Harry said, voice cracking. He stared hard at Draco, and his green gaze seemed to burn through the blond. “We were supposed to fight this war together.” A dry sob choked itself from Harry.

Draco gazed sadly at him, looking into the tears that filled those green eyes. “We still can, Harry. I still remember that you must defeat an evil mad man, and I know that it’s important that it’s you who defeats him. I remember these important trinkets that are hidden, and I remember that you have an entire group of people willing to fight alongside you.” Draco tried to give his best reassuring grin to the other boy. “And I remember how I was willing to fight at your side, too, and help you in any way that I could. Nothing has changed, Harry. I can still do that.”

“Please, never leave me again,” Harry whispered, pulling Draco to him. He crushed his face into Draco’s neck, not that the blond minded. “I can’t…I can’t lose you again. Please, promise me?”

Draco gave a slight rueful grin. “I promise.” He carded his fingers through Harry’s thick, messy hair. The action seemed very familiar and Draco’s grin turned softer. “I will never leave you, Harry.”

Harry gave a soft sniff in return but stayed quiet. The two boys remained standing there, hugging each other for several moments, both relishing in the longed contact.

After a moment, Harry finally pulled away. His face was still flushed, but Draco thought he seemed a bit better. Hopeful.

“We better talk to Hermione and Ron,” Harry said, his voice sounding a bit gravely. “And maybe Madame Pomfrey again. We need to know more about this amnesia you seem to have.”

The mention of the Matron seemed to rile something within Draco, and he felt deeply uncomfortable at having to see her again. But he couldn’t come up with a rational explanation as to why, so he nodded to Harry.

“As you wish.”

“We’d better go now. The sooner the better,” Harry said, crossing over to the door of the room.

Draco would’ve rather stayed in the room with Harry longer, but he understood the urgency. With great reluctance, Draco began to follow Harry out of the room.

_Strike._

_Strike him down._

“—Draco?”

A hand waved in front of him. Draco found himself looking back at Harry, whose concerned face filled his vision.

“Draco, you alright? You kind of, er, froze,” Harry said, his eyes narrowed with slight alarm.

Draco shook his head. “I’m fine. I thought I heard something.”

Harry’s eyebrows drew closer together. “Like what?”

The blond gave a quick shrug. “Maybe a memory? The amnesia might not be entirely permanent after all.” He gave a promising grin to Harry.

The other boy’s lips quirked up in response. “Maybe. We’ll have to talk to Hermione.”

He grabbed Draco’s hand into his as Harry stepped through the doorway of the room, and began to lead the two of them further down the corridor into the direction where Hermione and Ron would be.

As they walked, Harry didn't give much thought to the dull ache that began to grow behind his scar.

 


	4. Chapter Four

Since Snape was currently missing and both Carrows had been disarmed and taken into custody (all without Voldemort’s knowing) Hogwarts was now in the Order’s control. For now, it was to be their secret headquarters as the war proceeded on.

Classes had been fully suspended and the younger students, along with other smuggled in muggleborns and half-bloods, were being kept safe in several hidden areas of the castle. It was too great of a risk to send the children to their homes; Headmistress McGonagall reasoned that with the added security and newly restored wards, along with the Order members’ presence, they would be more protected if they stayed in the castle. It also helped that many Aurors who’d been removed from the Ministry had also joined the Light side. With so many watchful eyes guarding them, the students could roam freely inside the walls of the school as the Order planned their next moves in secret. Meanwhile, the DA had also reorganized and moved their headquarters from the Room of Requirement to the Gryffindor Tower, while the Great Hall was utilized by the Order of Phoenix to conduct their business.  

When Harry strolled into the Hall, with Draco close behind him, the Gryffindor was grateful to see a sparse amount of people in the room with Ron and Hermione being the closest to the doors. Harry turned to give a reassuring smile to Draco.

“That’s Ron and Hermione,” Harry said, motioning towards the two.

Draco looked across the room, studying the two as they seemed to be talking amongst a few others in a diligent manner. “Your friends?” he asked, slightly bewildered as his eyes roamed over everyone in the room. Harry noticed that most of the Weasleys were present, along with Fleur, Tonks, and Remus. Kingsley Shacklebolt was also nearby speaking to Aberforth Dumbledore. “They seem… familiar.”

“You recognize them?” Harry asked Draco, his eyes studying the other boy’s pale face. Draco seemed to be mulling something over as Harry watched his eyes narrow.

“I think so.”

It seemed like there was more that Draco wanted to say, but Harry tightened his grip on Draco’s hand and pulled him forward towards the other Gryffindors.

“Let’s go and talk to them. You might remember…” Harry’s voice trailed off as they grew closer to the two and saw their grim and concerned expressions. “Hermione, what’s wrong? What happened?” he asked, eyes flitting between her and Ron.

The redhead quickly looked away, but it was Hermione’s teary-eyed appearance that told him something was seriously off.

“Oh, Harry, I tried to tell them —”

“Harry, get away from him!”

There was a hard tug on his hand before Harry suddenly felt himself grasping cold air.

He whirled around quickly to see Draco being forced away from him by two men in Auror uniforms, who each had a solid grip on Draco’s arms as the blond struggled against them. Tonks and Kingsley stood just off to the side watching, and Harry realized it was Tonks’ voice who’d shouted before.

“Harry —!”

Draco’s shout was quickly silenced with a spell from one of the Aurors and Harry instantly saw red. He quickly drew his wand, pointing it at the floor for now but itching to send a hex towards the two men.  

The Aurors seemed unperturbed and were looking at Kingsley for direction, so Harry whirled to face him instead.

“Kingsley, what are they doing? Let him go!”

The Senior Auror frowned deeply, his weary features set into a grim expression as he shook his head slightly. “I’m afraid I can’t do that, Harry. Mors is one of You-Know-Who’s most dangerous Dark Assassins.”

His wand movement was too quick and a stunning spell from Shacklebolt hit Draco straight in the chest. The blond’s eyes widened for a moment before he collapsed with a soft grunt, held up only by the tight clutches of the Aurors.

“No!” Harry cried, moving forward. Someone’s quick hold on his arms prevented him from going to Draco and Harry turned to see Remus staring back at him, his brown eyes clouded with remorse.

“Harry, no. There’s nothing you can do for him,” his former professor said in a calm tone.

“What the hell are you talking about?” Harry shouted, struggling against Remus’ hold. His green eyes glared threateningly at Shacklebolt. “Let him go! He’s not who you think he is, Kingsley!”

Tonks’ brows furrowed deeply, her hair flashing between brown and a dull magenta as she watched her cousin being dragged slowly from the room. Shacklebolt also frowned at Harry’s words.

“What do you mean?” the man questioned. “Draco Malfoy is a wanted death eater. He goes by the name of Mors but many Order members have recognized him as Lucius Malfoy’s only son. He has been witnessed to have raided numerous wizarding and muggle towns, and has even been seen in the presence of You-Know-Who.”

Harry finally managed to wrench himself from Remus’ grip. He stood straight so that he could turn his glare at all of them. “You’re wrong. Draco isn’t a death eater!”

“Harry,” Tonks said softly. “What do you mean? We have multiple eyewitnesses —”

“He was kidnapped, don’t you remember?”

“Yes,” the Head Auror sighed deeply. “But they must have turned him —”

“He wasn’t willing! They _forced_ him!”

Remus and Tonks’ eyes widened, while Shacklebolt’s narrowed with doubt. “How do you —?”

“They tortured him!” Harry shouted at them. “They brainwashed him, I don’t know! But that wasn’t Draco doing those things. I know that!”

Everyone in the room was frowning at him, including Ron and Hermione. Doubt clouded in every single pair of eyes. In the past, Harry might have sympathized along with them — because Draco Malfoy not being a death eater made less sense than him predictably following in his father’s footsteps.

Shacklebolt was looking carefully at Harry, however, considering his words.

“Do you have any proof?” he asked Harry, his deep voice set in a neutral tone.

Harry hesitated, unsure of how to explain what he knew to be truth. Draco Malfoy didn’t commit those heinous crimes. Harry was positive he hadn’t. True, Draco wasn’t…himself. Harry could see that, and he knew that there was something not quite right. Draco had returned to Hogwarts with barely any memory; Draco seemed unsure, different.

Either way, Draco couldn’t have done any of that. He couldn’t have killed so many people in such a heartless manner. That wasn’t his Draco.

But it would take more than his simple intuition to convince them of Draco’s innocence. 

“I had visions of him being tortured by Vol — You-Know-Who for months. That’s a long enough time to make anyone’s will become weak. Then they must have Imperiused him into doing those things for him.”

“Harry, that’s not sufficient —”

“He doesn’t remember!” Harry yelled out, frustration and anger lacing in his words.

His green eyes flashed and he knew his magic was beginning to act up. His wand hand was shaking and there was a soft hum beginning to reverberate in the air above them all. It was growing louder as they stood there staring at him with wide eyes and pale expressions.

At one point, Harry might have grown concerned for them. But Draco had returned. Harry had just gotten him back, and now they were wanting to take Draco away from him.

“Harry,” a soft voice calmly interjected from behind him. It sounded like Hermione’s voice and Harry looked over his shoulder to see her ashen face set into a deep frown as she gazed at him. “Harry, you need to calm down. What do you mean, ‘he doesn’t remember’?”

But a deep thrum was settling into Harry’s chest and he felt so enraged and indignant at everything. He hated everyone in that room. And it hit him suddenly at what exactly had happened in the last year since he’d thought he lost Draco.

“They took him from me, Hermione!” Harry growled, his throat hoarse and his eyes scorching from unshed tears. “They took up, and they beat him up, and they tortured him, and _fuck!_ Merlin knows what else. I thought he’d _died_ , Hermione. I thought they’d killed him. And then he comes back but he can’t remember anything. They took everything from us!”

Everyone in the room seemed increasingly distressed at Harry’s troubling words. The remaining magenta in Tonks’ hair bled out until only a somber brown remained.

“Oh, Harry,” she murmured.

“Mate, are you sure?” Ron asked abruptly, his eyes narrowed. “He could be faking it —”

“I know what the bloody hell I’m talking about, Ron!” Harry roared, his magic lashing out impetuously in his rage. Everyone gasped and stumbled a few steps back. “Draco isn’t faking it!”

Through the thick haze of magic that thudded in his ears, Harry absently heard murmurs coming from the others. He didn’t care, he just wanted to get Draco back. Harry felt like he was about to lose his mind if he couldn’t get to him. He knew his magic was growing uncontrollable, and he struggled to rein it in. Otherwise, he felt like his emotions were about to destroy the entire room at this rate.

Harry heard Ron’s voice again, closer and more direct through the invisible hums of magic encompassing him. “Mate, I’m sorry,” he apologized. His voice sounded so far away, and Harry fought to channel his magical levels to a lower degree. “I didn’t mean… of course, it wasn’t his fault. But what… was it a memory charm like _Obliviate_?”

“I don’t know,” Harry scowled, hands rubbing at his face and through his hair in agitation as he concentrated on _calming_ _down_. “Madam Pomfrey said it might’ve been something else. But I know there’s more to it.” His eyes met Kingsley’s. “That’s why we were going to ask for help. We don’t need an interrogation or him getting arrested. We need answers. And you’re not going to find any with him locked up somewhere in a classroom while we are in the middle of a war.”

Kingsley seemed none too happy while listening to Harry’s words. His chin was set into a deep frown and his weary eyes were solemn as they stared back at the younger boy. The Auror in him was thirsty for and demanded justice. He’d seen too many innocents slain in cold blood by the death eaters; he’d only heard the rumors of what Mors has been capable of. As Head Auror, it had been his primary goal to capture the dark assassin and bring him into the Ministry.

But he’d worked alongside the Order and Harry Potter a long while now, and he knew the boy was as stubborn as the old headmaster had been.

As he met those famous green pair of eyes, Dumbledore’s last words rang through him: _Harry is the best hope we have. Trust him_. And the older Auror let out a heavy, ragged sigh, inwardly cursing to himself.

“I hope I don’t end up regretting this,” Kingsley muttered before he looked up. Waving his wand, his lynx patronus illuminated brightly in the room with a flash before leaping gracefully out of the Great Hall. Kingsley turned to Harry and his friends. “You’ll find Mr. Malfoy being held in an abandoned classroom in the Dungeon corridor. Aurors Samson and Dean will let you through.” Kingsley’s eyes narrowed at the three of them. “I expect you to find out what he does remember and to take him back to Madam Pomfrey for further tests. And if Mr. Malfoy should have any information on You-Know-Who’s whereabouts or preparations, I want to know immediately.”

Harry nodded to him, grateful for the Head Auror’s amenability, and finally felt the last dregs of his magic taper to normal levels. Tonks, Remus, and the others in the room gave him a mix of sympathetic and wary expressions, the latter of which Harry ignored as he and the other two turned to leave the room. But a gentle voice from behind him made him pause.

“The Headmistress would like a word with you, Harry, as soon as you’ve saved him,” Luna said softly, twirling a strand of her hair absently as she sat atop the Hufflepuff table. “Something of great importance that concerns your friend too.”

Harry pressed his lips into a thin line, but nodded. Then he, along with Ron and Hermione, hurried towards the Dungeons to find Draco.

 

* * *

 

When the trio crossed into the room, they could see that Draco was already awake and looking forlorn as he sat at a desk near the center of the small classroom. His blond head looked up at the sound of their movement; his eyes widened as they landed on them.

“Harry!” Draco exclaimed, standing straight and walking towards him with a fascinating grace. His face was pale and he was clearly distressed, but his countenance brightened as Harry swept him into a close hug.

“You alright?” Harry asked, looking over Draco carefully while he embraced him.

The blond seemed to enjoy basking in the attention and he flashed a soft smirk at Harry. “Of course. I was simply wondering what was taking the precious Chosen One so long,” Draco teased. Harry rolled his eyes but a small smile escaped him.

A loud chortle behind them reminded the boys that they weren’t alone.

“You sure he lost his memories?” Ron snickered as he and Hermione crossed over to sit at the desks nearest to Harry and Draco. “He seems to be acting normal to me.”

Hermione’s brows were furrowed. “No,” she said, glancing sideways at Ron. “Something is different about him. Malfoy’s usual behavior with others seems off. And he’s not even glaring at us.” She turned to Harry. “What was it that Madam Pomfrey said about his memory?”

“’Dissociative amnesia,’” Harry quoted with a frown. “Not a bloody clue what that means, though.”

Hermione’s expression scrunched in thought. “It’s a disruption in memory,” she began; and the boys knew they were in for an informational lecture. “In Draco’s case, it might be a good thing because that means it’s not permanent.”

“What do you mean?” Harry asked slowly. “Does that mean it wasn’t a spell that took Draco’s memories?”

“On the contrary,” she said, glancing at Draco out of the corner of her eyes. “It occurs when someone blocks out certain information because of some traumatic or stressful event. The memories still exist, but they’re deeply buried in the mind and cannot be recalled.”

“Wait, wait,” Harry broke in, narrowing his eyes at her. “So, Draco did this to himself? Not a spell?”

“Well, not on purpose,” she told him calmly. “Whatever Malfoy must have gone through could have seriously broken his psyche. In order to protect his mind, he must have shielded his thoughts somehow to prevent losing his memories.”

“Like through Occlumency?” Ron questioned.

Hermione nodded. “Exactly.”

“Draco has always been a good Occlumens,” Harry admitted, stealing a glance at the quiet blond beside him.

Silent as he was, Draco had been following the conversation neatly, glancing at all of them as they talked about him. But he didn’t mind as they spoke; how could he, when he barely understood his own actions, apparently.

He’d shielded his own thoughts to protect himself from losing his mind. It made sense, in a self-preserving kind of way.

Fat lot of good that it did him now, though. While Draco still remembered Harry (sort of) he had no recollection of anyone else in the castle. He recognized the Matron as the general nurse of the castle and he knew these two to be Harry’s friends. Other than the castle being his former school, and a war having erupted amongst wizard kind, his mind was hopeless at remembering anything else.

“Can it be reversed?” Draco finally spoke, cocking his head to the side as he glanced at the frizzy haired girl. “If I’m the one who shielded my memories, there has to be some way for me to retrieve them.”  

She pressed her lips together tightly. “It depends. Your memories actually can resurface on their own, or they might be triggered if you’re surrounded by familiar people and surroundings. However,” and her voice trailed off as she glanced guiltily at Harry, who frowned back at her.

“What is it?” he asked slowly.

“As his memories return, _all_ of them will come back,” Hermione told them, her face grim. “The good, the bad, and the most unwelcome ones.”

Draco winced reflexively, suddenly feeling perspiration beginning to dot along his forehead. He absently felt Harry flinch from beside him as well, but he was too busy remembering the earlier flashes of screams and blood from before.

He honestly couldn’t remember what must have happened to cause him to lose his memories, but obviously it wasn’t something good. Maybe there was a reason for him locking away those memories. As much as he wanted to remember his friends, his parents, and everyone else, was it worth it? Along with the good memories, he’d be remembering what caused this to happen.  

“What happens if he never remembers?” Harry’s question abruptly penetrated through Draco’s thoughts. “What happens then? Does he lose everything forever?”

Hermione shook her head. “It doesn’t work like that. With time and rehabilitation, Draco would probably gain all of his memories back within a matter of months. But even without that, he will still begin to remember everything. It would be much slower and with only small memories at first, but everything would eventually return.” 

Draco felt a sharp pain pass through his head, but he ignored it in favor of glancing beside him at Harry’s grimacing expression. The other boy looked pale and unsettled; his palms flexed and unflexed at his sides in agitation. Draco could imagine him as a lion yearning to pace back and forth within a cage. And merlin, did that thought send visions of red and gold streamers and banners racing through his mind. He nearly cursed as the sharp pain grew.

“Harry,” Draco gasped as his legs felt weak, and he nearly staggered into the boy beside him. But then arms wrapped around him, a choked voice called out his name, and Draco raised his eyes to meet green.

“Draco, what? What’s wrong?” Harry asked frantically, his eyes wide with panic.

The blond shook his head, working to dispel the onslaught of memories racking through his brain. They weren’t serious or nearly significant enough to make much of a difference but the memories were loud and obnoxious.

He could still hear the cheers and the loud roar of the stands echoing inside his ears.

“Nothing, I’m fine,” he managed to force out as the last images cleared from his mind. “I just… I think I just remembered something.”

Hermione and Ron’s eyes widened, but Harry’s frown only grew deeper.

“Of what?” Harry demanded.

Draco licked his lips, suddenly yearning for a glass of water or some food. When was the last time he’d eaten? he absently wondered. “Nothing hugely important. Just a memory of you Gryffindors supposedly beating us in Quidditch.”

Ron coughed to hide a laugh. Harry’s lips twitched with wry amusement.

“Which time?” he asked with false innocence.

Draco mustered a weak glare in his direction. “Piss off, Potter,” he grumbled, but with no real venom in his voice.

Harry appeared satisfied at his words and he turned to Hermione with a wry grin.

“I guess you were right. His memories are already coming back.”

“Quite quickly,” Hermione agreed, biting her lip in deep thought. “But we still don’t have a reason as to why he still remembers you out of everyone.”

Ron shook his head. “Does it matter?” he asked bemusedly. “Malfoy will soon have all of his memories back anyway.”

“Yes, but it’s very odd,” Hermione argued, and her shoulders were set straight in defensive mode. “In this kind of situation, Malfoy’s memory loss would’ve included long-time memory along with any recollection of the traumatic event that may have happened to him. So, it makes sense that he’s nearly forgotten everything and can’t seem to remember what happened during his kidnapping. But why on earth would he only remember Harry?”

“The git loves him that much?” Ron scoffed, rolling his eyes good-naturedly. “’True love conquers’, and all that rot.”

“But that’s exactly it,” Hermione remarked and her eyes glittered with frustration. “If Malfoy had really been trying to preserve his memories, wouldn’t he have protected the ones about Harry the most? It only makes sense that he would’ve forgotten Harry along with the memories of his parents and his friends.”

Draco didn’t like the deep-set frown that had returned to Harry’s face and he mentally cursed the frizzy haired girl for upsetting the boy. What an annoying know-it-all, he mentally sneered.

“It shouldn’t matter why I retain memories of Harry,” Draco ground out, giving a mild glare towards the witch. “I’d say that it was rather a good thing, since I was able to find him after everything. And anyways, are there not more important matters to worry about? Don’t you people have a war to fight?”

The others threw each other sidelong glances that sort of irritated Draco with its easy familiarity but then Harry turned to him with an intense look. 

“You’re right, there are more important things,” he said, his eyes staring intensely into Draco’s. It was a bit unnerving for the blond; it made him regret having changed the subject. “We still have to see Madam Pomfrey if we want to find out more but until your memories recover, we won’t know what really happened to you while you were kidnapped.”

“Which means,” Ron added from beside him, frowning at Harry as he spoke. “That we don’t have any leads or information about You-Know-Who’s plans to give to Kingsley.”

“Or any news about Mors,” admitted Harry, biting his lip in irritation. His eyes flickered over to Draco uncertainly. “That name doesn’t sound familiar to you, does it?”

Draco was bemused at first as to why Harry kept asking him about that name, but then he supposed it was something he ought to have remembered and then he felt a flicker of annoyance. Couldn’t they stop asking him questions he obviously knew nothing about?

“No, it doesn’t,” he said almost curtly. But the others hadn’t seemed to notice his tone, as they all turned back to one another and began speaking rapidly in hushed tones. Draco listened carefully to their conversation but the snippets Draco caught, he couldn’t exactly make sense of.

“...need to ask him about the vault…”

“How on earth… if he doesn’t remember…”

“…take him to Pomfrey to figure that out…”

“…not risking him again…”

“…just need information on how to get in, that’s all…”

“…it’ll take time…to get memories back…”

“…running out of, Hermione…”

“…no other choice…”

“I know,” Harry finished with a scowl, throwing a mild glare at the other two. “This is the only plan we have, I get that. Doesn’t mean I have to like it.”

“No one said you had to,” said Hermione, seeming far too calm in spite of their conversation. “We still have to continue looking for the diadem. In the meantime, we need to split up our efforts between finding it as well as helping Draco recover so that we can get the next one.”

“And then that’s it, right?” Ron asked, looking anxious for a response. “That’s all the horcruxes.”

“That we know of,” Harry answered morosely, looking down. “There’s supposed to be one more.”

“But until we find out more,” Hermione quickly interjected, seeing the look on Ron’s face. “We can concentrate on ridding the two that we know of. That’s enough for now.”

“We have our work cut out for us,” Ron sighed heavily, shaking his head.

Draco looked at Harry, still entirely bemused at the conversation. But some of the words they mentioned — diadem, horcruxes — made a sharp pain start near his temple. He figured that it was the stirrings of another memory. But he was feeling a bit faint now, not to mention starving after an entire day without even seeing a single morsel of food. He didn’t care for regaining his memories at the moment. He just wanted to relax, eat, and be alone with Harry.

He tugged at Harry’s shirt sleeve, causing the other boy to stop mid-sentence as he was talking to Ron about something and face him.

“We should go to Madam Pomfrey,” said Draco, although he wished they could go anywhere else. But the hospital was the most likely place that he’d find rest as well as nourishment, and it’s not like this castle had a food service — that Draco was familiar with, at least.

“Draco’s right,” Hermione agreed promptly. “Madam Pomfrey will have more knowledge on the subject.”

She led the way out of the room with the boys quickly in tow. It was a quiet walk and it only took a few minutes until they reached the doors to the hospital wing.

But when they walked in, they could see that Madam Pomfrey was already preoccupied with another patient. The figure was hunched over, sitting on a bed as the Matron cast healing spells on their person.  

The four of them went to stand off to the side to wait until Madam Pomfrey was done, when a strangled gasp from Draco shattered the silence.

“ _Mum?_ ”


	5. Chapter Five

In a vacant corner of the Infirmary, Harry stood still as Ron and Hermione murmured softly next to him and Madam Pomfrey bustled around the room. His friends were speculating on Mrs. Malfoy’s possible whereabouts while the war had been ensuing but Harry listened with half an ear, his eyes never straying from where Draco sat as the blond talked with his mother.

Harry had instantly noticed the change in Draco’s demeanor when they’d first walked into the room and Draco had seen his mother. The boy had almost frozen at the sight of the poised blonde witch; they all had, partly in shock at seeing the witch sitting, frail, in bed but also at the fact that Draco remembered his mother so quickly. 

Now Draco was talking comfortably with his mother like he remembered everything about her. Like nothing had changed.

Harry didn’t know what to make of it. How could Draco remember his mother so quickly when earlier he couldn’t even recall her name? How could he meet Ron, Hermione, and the Order, but still couldn’t recall details about the war, Hogwarts, or about Mors and Voldemort?

None of it made sense. It bothered Harry, much more than it probably should’ve. But Harry didn’t like this feeling. He was missing something and it was throwing him off. The feeling reminded him Voldemort, and at the same time he knew it was different. Something wasn’t right.

He wasn’t sure what it was that he was feeling. But he did know he had to talk to Draco. He needed to find out what happened to him while he was gone.

 

* * *

 

As they walked into the hospital, Draco was the first one to notice that the frail figure hunched on the patient bed was an injured woman. Draco wasn’t sure at first as to how he knew this. He was also immediately certain that she was a woman of distinguished background and that she’d been injured from dark magic. He could feel the familiar hum of it in the air, indicating that this woman had been exposed to it for some time.

He didn’t recognize her at first. He felt slightly curious as to her identity but at the moment, Draco was more concerned about staying with Harry. The Matron hadn’t noticed their coming in yet so the trio moved to a section of the room to wait.

Draco went to follow them, but his eyes strayed; he saw the blonde head raise up. Cool, weary, _familiar_ blue eyes met his and Draco’s legs momentarily froze as he felt a mentor door unlock within his mind; an onslaught of childhood memories filled his vision.

He knew this woman. He knew her very well, in fact. Her beautiful, graceful visage, sitting mere feet from him, was no match compared to Draco’s tender memories of her as a child.

Draco could feel the motherly grace and affection pour from the woman, especially when her blue eyes widened at the sight of him. The worn expression that’d been set into the slight wrinkles of her face altogether vanished. She looked almost wholesome, with hope glistening in her eyes as her lips parted with a silent word — a mouthed word that Draco could easily discern from the doorway.

 _Dragon_.

Draco felt his eyes begin to tear and his heartstrings tugged fiercely in his chest as shame rolled heavily through him. Because how dare he forget about his own _mother?_

Draco heard himself give a strangle gasp and then he felt his legs advance without his volition as he hurried towards her. He moved until he was kneeling in front of his mother, taking her hands hurriedly in his. 

“Mother, what are you doing here?” he asked, his voice still sounding strangled.

Narcissa Malfoy gave Draco a small, tired smile.

“I’ve finally found you, _mon petit dragon_ ,” she sighed softly, wrapping long fingers around his chin and tipping his face up to her. “I have missed you.”

Draco gave a watery smile. “I’ve missed you too. Where have you been?”

Her smile lessened, but her eyes remained warm even as her voice quivered noticeably. “I have… been away,” she said. “I was forbidden by your father and…by our previous master to see you. But in their haste to further advance their war efforts, they seemed to have forgotten about me.” Her eyes took on a strange gleam as she spoke. “I was able to…overpower an associate of your father’s. I managed to escape and traveled on foot to Hogwarts.”

“How’d you get in? The wards should have—”

“Severus,” Narcissa explained kindly. “He was able to smuggle me inside and hide me away in his previous quarters in the dungeons. That was just over a month ago.”

Draco’s brows furrowed. “You were down there for a month?”

“Don’t fret, darling,” she softly crooned. “One of the house elves was taking care of my meals thanks to Severus’ orders. However, once Professor McGonagall became Headmistress after he left, I was beginning to become hungry. This morning, I ventured out of the rooms and a member of the Order found me.”

The blond tensed with a frown. “He didn’t hurt you, did he?” Draco asked.

Narcissa gave a light laugh. “Oh no, he was quite the gentleman, Mr. Charlie Weasley. He led me to the Headmistress’ Office where I explained my previous whereabouts. She was quite kind, if stern, just as I remember from my youth. After I requested sanctuary, she ordered me to the Hospital Wing for proper nourishment and rest, although with these sheets, darling…”

Her tone was playful but they both heard Madam Pomfrey give a loud sniff from a few feet away. Draco and Narcissa quietly chuckled.

“Are you staying then?” Draco asked, moving to sit on the bed now that he was secure in the knowledge that his mother was truly safe.

“For now, my darling,” she said softly. “The Headmistress has graciously granted me sanctuary in the castle on the assurance that once I receive the proper care from Madam Pomfrey tonight, I will be returned to the dungeons.”

“In Professor Snape’s rooms?”

Narcissa shook her head no. “The Headmistress gave me a temporary room where I will stay and be monitored.”

Draco felt his nerves bristle. “You are not a common prisoner!” he nearly cried.

“Hush, darling,” Narcissa chastised, her voice quickly growing stern. “The Headmistress is extremely merciful and gracious in allowing me to stay here amongst her students and staff. I am thankful for all that she has done and bear no grudge against her for acting as so; it is much more than I deserve.”

Draco still wasn’t satisfied but he held his tongue. There was no use arguing with his mother, from where his stubbornness stemmed from. While his father’s talents remained in ambition and manipulation, his mother’s tenacious character helped the family even through their more difficult moments. Even during war time and after being imprisoned by the Dark Lord, she persisted in surviving through it; even without her husband at her side.

Narcissa tilted her gaze toward the quiet trio huddled in the corner. She noticed one of the boys’ focused stare in their direction. She looked at him with a kind of curiosity in her expression before looking back at her son with a raised brow.

“Who are your friends, dragon? I recognize the infamous Weasley hair, but I’m unsure of who the other two might be.”

Draco threw a look over his shoulder, just now remembering that he hadn’t been alone when he’d entered the hospital.

“Oh,” he breathed, blushing a bit. Narcissa’s eyes narrowed as she caught the rush of color high on Draco’s cheekbones, but her expression didn’t falter. She smiled as she watched her son’s demeanor waver with nervous energy. “That’s Ron Weasley, his friend Hermione Granger, and…Harry Potter. They’ve been … caring for me for a while.”

Narcissa’s eyebrows flew upward fleetingly. “Harry Potter?” Her eyes strayed toward the boy again, this time more thoughtfully. After a moment, she turned back to her son and her expression was a mixture between amused and fond. “Just what have you been up to, my dragon?”

Draco wasn’t sure what expression to make that wouldn’t alarm her. He couldn’t very well say that he honestly couldn’t remember anything past the last few hours, other than Harry, snippets of the war and Hogwarts, and just recently her. There were a few fragments of his father returning to him, but they were distant and scattered and cold. Draco didn’t even think he wanted to remember the man if the few fragments of him told him anything. 

Narcissa seemed to notice his hesitance. Her eyes quickly grew concerned.

“Dragon?”

Draco inwardly cleared his head. He gave her a slight smile as he looked back at her. “I’m glad to see you, mother. It hasn’t been … easy since I last saw you.” He couldn’t prevent his broken and stilted words. Draco hoped it wasn’t too noticeable that he was hiding something.

But Narcissa’s gaze grew calculating, and her eyes swiveled back to the group in the corner. “Darling, why don’t you introduce me to your friends? I’d like to meet them,” she said cordially.

Draco’s eyes narrowed at his mother, instantly noticing her calm tone. He couldn’t tell what she was thinking (or planning, knowing his mother). He eyed her, not for a moment believing in the stoic mask she wore as she smiled at him.

With a sigh, Draco turned and crossed the room to where the trio was standing. As he neared, Harry’s gaze slipped away from his and off to the side. It made Draco frown.

“My mother would like to meet you,” Draco said. He tried to meet Harry’s eyes. The other boy refused to look at him. Ron and Hermione threw a glance at one another before nodding and walking over to where Narcissa Malfoy sat on the bed. Harry quickly followed them, ignoring Draco’s outstretched hand when the blond went to reach for him.

Confused and a bit hurt, Draco trailed after them. He stood off to the side as his mother greeted her visitors with a slight smile and a piercing blue gaze.

“Hermione, Ronald, Harry, I’d like to introduce you to my mother, Narcissa Black Malfoy,” Draco said, some part of him acting on impulse from years of studying pureblood manners and etiquette. He was glad for it, as thoughts focused on Harry raced through his mind. “Mother, may I introduce Hermione Granger, Ronald Weasley, and Harry Potter.”

The other three murmured their stuttered greetings while Narcissa’s expression remained politely interested. Her gaze narrowed, however, as it passed over Harry.

“Charmed,” she greeted them. “While I do recall meeting you several years ago, it’s a pleasure to see you all once again. Granted, it is under quite different circumstances, I’m afraid.”

Draco stole a glance at Harry beside him, noting the boy’s stiff muscles and blank expression. He also noticed how the other two were glaring suspiciously as his mother spoke; it was obvious that the woman’s presence within Hogwarts was discomfiting to the trio, to say the least. Draco couldn’t understand why.

The blond cleared his throat slightly. “The Headmistress has granted my mother sanctuary in the castle while she recovers and rests.”

Draco noticed that the trio seemed to start slightly at the mention of the Headmistress. They appeared bemused and wary.

“Why?” Ron demanded bluntly. Draco glared harshly at him.

Mrs. Malfoy only returned his question with a polite smile but remained silent, as if she didn’t hear the question.

Hermione blinked. “Were you injured, Mrs. Malfoy?”

It was obvious her question was merely for Mrs. Malfoy’s sake, and to fill the awkward silence that had followed Ron’s question.

Narcissa gave her a more courteous smile. “Merely a lack of nourishment, Ms. Granger,” she responded. The trio discerned there were more to her words but they said nothing.

If she was asking to stay in the Light Side’s hideout in the castle, it was obvious she was hiding from the death eaters. It was also probably thanks to them that she had to recover in the first place.

“She’s sleeping in the Infirmary tonight,” Draco informed them, not a bit defensively. “But then she’ll have her own rooms in the Dungeons.”

Harry nodded a bit grudgingly. It made sense. Some of the other children and smuggled in muggle-borns were also staying in areas of the dungeons. It was the deepest hidden area of the castle that was safe in case of an attack. He deeply wondered if it was still safe placing Mrs. Malfoy, wife to a notorious Death Eater, in the same safe area as the children.   

Still, the Headmistress did grant her sanctuary. She must’ve realized that Mrs. Malfoy was no longer as much of a threat.

“Have you been here long, Ms. Malfoy?” Hermione spoke again.

“Not too long,” replied Narcissa. “However, it seems like a lifetime since I have last seen my son. He’s told me that you have been caring for my Draco during my absence.” Narcissa’s gaze went slightly soft as she gazed at the trio, not seeming to notice the slightly guilty expressions that flashed on their faces. “It means much more to me than you realize but for the past year, I’ve been dearly afraid for my son. It makes me overjoyed to seem him alive and well during these wretched times.” Her eyes fell on Harry and settled there for a moment. “Thank you for saving him and I am forever in your debt.”

Harry’s feet bounced back and forth as he shifted nervously under her gaze, but he nodded and murmured a stiff “Welcome” to her.

Narcissa smiled gently in return.

Madam Pomfrey chose that moment to walk toward them, eyeing the trio shrewdly as she approached.

Her words were clipped as she spoke. “My patients need their rest. Dinner will be served soon.”

“Blimey, it’s almost dinner time?” Ron exclaimed, eyes going round. Hermione rolled her eyes and Harry’s lip twitched half-heartedly. But Draco’s stomach chose that moment to grumble, to his great embarrassment.

Madam Pomfrey’s eyes narrowed.

“We’ll just be heading to the Great Hall for dinner, then,” Hermione spoke quickly, grabbing a hold of Ron’s wrist. The redhead was completely agreeable to leaving the stilted atmosphere at the mention of food and he nodded rapidly as Hermione tugged him out of the Hospital Wing. “Coming, Harry?”

Draco quickly glanced over to the other boy in surprise, not wanting to see him go. Yes, he had his mother now but he still had trouble remembering anyone else in the blasted castle. He didn’t want to be alone.

But the Matron decided for them with her next words. “Actually, Mr. Potter, the Headmistress gave me orders to send the both of you to her office straight after dinner. She would like a word that concerns the two of you.”

Narcissa glanced at her son in quiet alarm, but Draco felt relief at having Harry still at his side.

Even if the other boy still refused to look at him.

Madam Pomfrey soon took her leave but her empty presence was quickly replaced with a quiet _pop,_ and three dinner trays appeared on the tables near them.

They ate mostly in silence, save for the tinkering of silverware. They were graceful enough about it, but Harry subtly noticed that both Malfoys seemed famished as they ate their food. They each had second helpings of their meals before he’d even finished his. But Harry couldn’t blame them. While he was still in the dark as to Mrs. Malfoy’s situation and how she ended up being given sanctuary at Hogwarts, it was obvious she’d been granted under poor conditions. As to Draco, he hadn’t recalled seeing the blond eat this morning before he’d stormed off to their Room. There’d been more pressing matters at that time.

Speaking of, Harry wondered momentarily as he threw a glance at Draco, they had to ask the Matron for more information about Draco’s amnesia after they spoke with the Headmistress. It was good that Draco seemed to remember his mother well enough. It spoke loads about how it appeared the amnesia wasn’t entirely permanent.

There was still a cause for concern, however, and Harry didn’t like the thought that Draco was missing pieces of himself at all. He shouldn’t have gotten amnesia in the first place. It could have been prevented. Harry could have stopped it. If he’d been more careful. If he’d just gone after the boy...

“Harry?” a voice spoke from his right. Harry glanced over to see Draco’s concerned expression turned towards him. “Harry, what’s wrong with you?”

It was then that Harry noticed his too tight grip on the spoon. He was digging the end of it into the table, leaving a small groove in the wood.  

He hurriedly dropped the utensil.

“Ah, nothing, stomachache.”

Draco still frowned, but he pushed his empty plate and utensils away. “Ready to go, then?” he asked.

Harry nodded quickly and stood, relieved at the chance for a distraction from his unhelpful thoughts.

They both said their parting words to Narcissa and left the Hospital. Draco still couldn’t remember his way around the castle, so Harry led the way towards McGonagall’s new office as Headmistress.

As they walked, Draco’s eyes swiveled back and forth at the decorations and hallways throughout the castle. From the day’s adventures walking all over the place, Draco could easily imagine getting lost inside the enormous castle. A few areas seemed familiar as they passed them and he instinctively knew where certain dorms and classrooms were located in a general sense. For the most part though, Draco felt immensely relieved to have Harry beside him.

“Harry,” he spoke gently, trying to catch the boy’s eye. There was no response. “ _Harry_.”

“Hmm?” Came the distracted reply. Draco frowned.

“Harry, I just thought of something,” he said, still trying to gain the boy’s attention. “I’m sure this Headmistress, whoever she may be, knows of my current situation by now. That man from earlier probably told her.”

“Kingsley,” Harry offered.

“Yes, Kingsley. The brute,” Draco hissed under his breath, hand unconsciously rubbing at his chest from where the stunning spell had hit him. Harry pretended not to notice. “I don’t like him very much. I don’t trust him either. And if he spoke with the Headmistress, who’s to say she won’t just throw me out of the castle?”

Harry abruptly stopped, causing Draco to walk into him from behind, letting out a whoosh of air at the impact.

“What the hell —”

Harry whirled around to throw a severe look at the blond. “Why would you say that?” he demanded.

Affronted, Draco returned with his own glare at the other boy. “I have been listening to your conversations,” he said, miffed at Harry’s attitude. “And from what the guards were saying when I woke up in that room, I gather I’m not the most well-liked person here, am I?” His gray eyes bore into Harry’s. “I’ve been getting nothing but glares from everyone since I woke up here. Even your friends throw me distrustful looks, especially that redheaded weasel bloke.”

“His name is Ron,” Harry said through gritted teeth. “And they have not—”

Draco waved a dismissive hand. “Ron, whatever. And I know what I saw.” His eyes turned harder as he looked at the other boy. “It’s not just me either. They were glaring at my mother, too.”

“They weren’t —”

“Stop _lying_ to me,” Draco spat. “I know what I saw. Are you calling me a liar, Potter?” 

Harry was quickly getting irritated at the conversation and he spoke in a rush, “Yes, no, listen, you don’t understand —”

“So, because I’ve lost a few memories, I don’t know what I’m talking about now?” hissed Draco, his cheeks coloring with indignation.

Harry made an explosive, aggravated sound as he shoved a hand through his hair. “No, you over-sensitive prat.”

The blond sneered. “Then explain — why the fuck is everyone throwing me death glares, and you’re not even doing anything to stop it?” The other boy looked at Draco. He noticed that some of the fury had left his face and only pain was shining in those grey eyes. “Why aren’t you explaining anything to me? You don’t think I can handle it?”

Harry pinched the bridge of his nose, feeling a headache looming. “Merlin, you’re just as infuriating as before.”

“Why are you treating me like some invalid?”

“For Merlin’s sake,” Harry spat, throwing a cutting glare. “Not everything is about you.”

Draco’s glare turned icy. “The hell it’s not.”

“There is a fucking war going on, if you haven’t noticed…”

“Of course, I’ve fucking noticed,” Draco sneered, his voice dripping with venom. “And I want to help you. But so far it seems like I’m more of a hinderance than a fucking asset.”

“Who the hell gave you that idea?” asked Harry, gritting his teeth hard.

“Everyone!” Draco cried out, frustration and hurt laced in his words. “Kingsley, your friends, all those people who looked like they’d rather see me gone than in the same room with them. I’ve done absolutely nothing to them and yet I feel like they’d throw a hex at me first chance they get. Oh, wait, _that_ _already happened_.”

“Merlin, Malfoy,” Harry hissed. “You’re so bloody dramatic.”

“Dramatic?!” Draco screeched.

“If you don’t shut your poncy mouth for one bloody minute…”

“What?” Draco bared his teeth, stepping close to the other boy and shoving himself in Harry’s space. Green eyes spat fire at him, and a part of Draco reveled in the fury that rolled off the Gryffindor boy in pulsing waves. “What the fuck are you going to do, fucking Golden boy? You want to have at me just like everyone else?” he taunted, and then shoved at Harry’s shoulder enough to make the other boy stagger backwards. “Do it. Do it, I fucking _dare_ you.”

“Stop it, Malfoy,” Harry growled, but his green eyes were piercing and the air grew tense. “You’re acting like a bloody child.”

“Oh, I’ve grown from being an invalid to being called a child. Well done with the insults, _Scarhead_.”

“Bloody merlin, Draco, I said stop —”

“Fuck you, Potter!” Draco shoved him again, but this time Harry was ready and he caught hold of Draco’s wrist as he held him fast. Draco growled, abruptly pulling his other arm backwards to swing at Harry.

“Fuck Malfoy!” Harry yelled, dodging at once as he twisted Draco’s wrist up behind his back, forcing the blond to bow backwards while facing away from Harry. “One last warning, Malfoy…” he growled against the blond strands of his hair.

Draco’s eyes flashed with a twisted satisfaction. “You won’t do anything. All bark and no bite. Some fucking ‘s _avior’_ you are. If the wizarding world only knew that you were just a pathetic, scared little – ahh!” He cried out as Harry forced his arm into a tighter, more merciless grip.

“Shut it, Malfoy,” growled Harry, and he reached with his other hand to grip tight on Draco’s turned jaw. “You don’t even know what the bloody hell you’re saying.”

“Enlighten me then,” the blond hissed in reply, eyes hard and filled with both anger and bitterness. “Tell me, you fucking Potter poof.”

Harry’s nostrils flared. “You won’t shut up, will you?” He forced his hand to cover Draco’s mouth, then jerked as the other boy licked his palm wetly. “Fuck! Malfoy, what the hell?”

Draco spat against the wall. “Prude.”

Harry chuckled but there was no humor in the sound. “Whatever, Malfoy. Now stop moving already.”

“Fag.”

Harry let out a sigh, suddenly feeling defeated. It was a moment before he spoke again, and his words sounded nearly as cross as he felt. “Listen, you great prat. You’re not a bloody hindrance, for starters...” The blond started struggling at once; Harry instantly tightened his grip on him, pushing them both forward until he pressed Draco tightly against the wall. “Listen, no, stop, just stop it, _listen_. You have no memory of certain things for now, yeah, but we’re going to solve that soon. And when we do, for Merlin’s sake stop struggling you bloody prat, when we do, you will be the best asset we’ll have. You’ll be able to give us the information we need and you’ll help us get closer to defeating that cold bloody bastard once and for all.”

Draco was shaking his head, barely comprehending Harry’s words. “What the hell are you talking about?”

“Merlin, Draco.” With another heavy sigh, he shoved the blond from him and let go of his wrists.

When Draco turned to look at him, Harry was twisted away with his back facing him. Draco watched the muscles in his shoulder blades and arms bulge as they tensed. “Why do you do this? I’d thought… I mean, after everything…” His voice dropped in a disappointed murmur. “I’d thought you changed.”

A lump formed in Draco’s throat and he suddenly felt like crying. “How else are you supposed to look at me?” he gasped, sounding pained and feeling disgusted with himself at his show of weakness. “I am yours. I belong to you. But you haven’t even tried to kiss me once since I woke up.”

Harry twisted around to stare at him in disbelief.

“What?” he said, and Draco thought his voice sounded slightly hysterical. “Is that what this has bloody been about?” Draco watched Harry’s expression change. He saw confusion, sadness, grief, and then finally, regret. “Draco,” he said, and the blond’s eyes narrowed as Harry took a step backwards. “I…”

“No, no,” Draco said, rushing forward to crash into Harry. He threw his arms around Harry’s neck and held fast, even as the other boy struggled to hold him away by his hips. “Don’t let me go. Don’t fucking let me go. Kiss me, fuck me, hit me, I don’t fucking care,” he hissed, desperation ruling his actions. “Just don’t bloody treat me as if I’ve already died.”

Harry stared at him, some of his anger slowly slipping away. But the regret and grief from earlier bled through his eyes. His expression looked torn, broken. His hands gripped Draco’s waist like he wanted to both pull the blond closer to him and push him away where’d he be safer.

“Draco, I can’t…” he gasped, sounding as distraught as he looked.

The blond stiffened. “Why? Why the bloody hell not?”

But Harry was shaking his head. “We’re in the middle of a war. Now is not the time, Draco. We have to talk to McGonagall.”

“Fuck that, I want—”

“Draco, let it go already!” he forced out, finally pulling Draco away from him. The blond was slightly bewildered at Harry’s strength compared against his, but his shock quickly spiraled and his fury from earlier returned.

His lips curled into a dark scowl. “Harry bloody Potter, if this your bloody martyr complex…”

Harry rolled his eyes but didn’t try to dissuade the blond from his thoughts. “We will talk about this later. Maybe. Right now, we need to go to McGonagall. I don’t want hear about this anymore.”

With that, the bloody Gryffindor stalked away hurriedly and left Draco behind to stare after him, miffed and exasperated as his eyes began to flash darkly.

Grey. Red. Grey. Red.

 _Bloody Potter_.

Draco frowned and blinked.

He didn’t know what was Harry’s problem. The blond didn’t think it mattered much, though. He knew he belonged to Harry; likewise, he belonged to Draco. Something connected them together. And it infuriated Draco that Harry was foiling his plans and acting like a bloody martyr instead of attacking him with kisses. He sort of hoped that Harry would feel as infatuated with him as he felt for Harry.

He’d just have to be patient, Draco supposed. In time, Harry would be his. Draco would make it so.

He trailed after Harry, leaving several feet between them. Any closer and Draco would notice that Harry would tense every time he did. It reminded him of a cowardly lion. Draco smirked.

They eventually came to the end of the corridor where a great statue stood. Harry murmured the proper password and Draco watched in awe as a moving stone staircase revealed itself behind the gargoyle statue.

Harry moved onto a step, quickly followed by Draco. The stairs twisted them higher and higher until they reached a set of doors, presumably to the Headmistress’ office. They stepped off and Harry opened the large doors after a voice called to _enter_. Unfortunately, Harry never noticed the smirk that appeared on the blond's face or the way his eyes flashed red once the doors shut behind them.

 


	6. Chapter Six

“Good afternoon,” Headmistress McGonagall greeted tersely as the boys entered the room. Her eyes watched them cautiously over the rim of her glasses as they crossed to the middle of the office. “I take it that Mrs. Malfoy is currently in the Hospital Wing, where I assume she has met with her son. Is this correct?”

Harry nodded swiftly, vaguely noticing the blond head beside him do the same. They both remained standing, declining when the Headmistress offered them each a biscuit and feeling unsure of why exactly they were summoned.

Professor McGonagall had always been quick to the point, however, and as she put aside the tin of biscuits her next words made Harry stiffen with apprehension.

“Due to testimony from both Madame Pomfrey and Auror Shacklebolt,” the Headmistress began, her tone brusque in nature, “I suspect that Mr. Malfoy has found himself on Hogwarts’ grounds not of his own volition. After his kidnapping, it is remarkable that Mr. Malfoy is still alive and whole and unmarked. However, according to Madam Pomfrey, he has lost most of his memories due to traumatic injuries sustained in You-Know-Who’s care.”

He felt a bit thrown from McGonagall’s direct and blunt approach but he should’ve known better than to expect otherwise. His former transfigurations professor didn’t seem to have changed despite her taking over Professor Dumbledore’s office. 

But Harry wasn’t concerned by McGonagall’s brusque nature towards them; his eyes were focused on the slightly hunched older man standing beside her wearing lime green healer robes.

“This is Healer Colby,” the Headmistress introduced with a wave of her hand. The man nodded politely to them. “He and his family sought sanctuary with Auror Shacklebolt as Healer Colby’s wife is Muggle born, and Kingsley brought them here for safety. I contacted him today because Healer Colby has experience in Memory Loss and Mind Healing.” Her eyes focused on Draco. “According to Madam Pomfrey, Mr. Malfoy has a form of amnesia. He cannot recall what transpired during his kidnapping or the events in the last year. Correct?” They both nodded. “I brought Healer Colby in to see what he can do to assist Mr. Malfoy.”

“To see if he’s lying,” Harry said in a frank voice.  

McGonagall’s eyes glimmered. “To make sure he’s not,” she countered simply, before gesturing to Draco to sit in the straight-backed chair a few feet away on the side of the room.

Harry glanced at Draco beside him. The blond seemed to be hesitant. He was stiff and his hands were clenched tight at his sides. He almost looked like he was readying himself for a battle and Harry had to stop himself from nearly reaching for the blond’s hand to comfort him. But the moment quickly passed and Draco walked over to sit stiffly in the chair. He still looked about ready to flee the room and his grey eyes moved wildly across the space until they met Harry’s. They focused there, pleading desperately and searching for something within those green depths.

Harry forced himself to look away.

The Healer stepped forward and crouched over the blond in the chair. “Now don’t worry, I’m quite good at what I do. I’ll make it as painless as possible, son,” Healer Colby said, a smooth timbre in his voice. His tone seemed to have a calming effect on Draco, who relaxed slightly. His grey eyes unfocused and seemed unaware as the healer slipped his wand from his sleeve, pointing it to the side of his blond head. “I’ll have to ask everyone in the room to remain quiet and to not move. Mind magic necessitates focus.” Then he gave a slight smile to Draco. “Just close your eyes, inhale deeply, and relax.”

With bated breath, Harry watched as the Healer cast the spell, “ _Legilimens_ ,” and saw Draco jerk slightly with a soft cry. Harry felt his heart lurch in response and he bit his lip, striving to remain calm as he spotted multiple expressions cross Draco’s face. The blond’s features twisted as though he was in pain, and slight whimpers occasionally escaped his mouth. Harry wanted to go to him. Comfort him. But his arms remained crossed and he resolutely stood still.

He knew this was the right thing to do. Soon, they’ll have more answers and hopefully be able to learn more about Draco’s memory loss and what might’ve happened to him.

Harry hoped so. He wanted this uncomfortable, wrong feeling that kept nagging at him to go away. He wanted things to go back to normal between him and the other boy. He wanted his Draco back.

 

* * *

 

At first, Draco had no recognition of the room around him. There was a fireplace to one side and a four-poster bed on the other. Silk sheets and drapes adorned the room’s furniture and windows, with the curtains firmly closed as they blocked out any sunlight from the outside. Other than the glow emanating from the lit fireplace, the rest of the space was barely visible.

It was a relaxing and warm, if not dark, space that might’ve been the average person’s bedroom. The only thing out of place was a single school trunk lying in the middle of the room.

Draco walked further around the space, searching carefully for any other clues that might’ve hinted at where he was, while numerous questions raced through his mind.

How the hell did he get here? Where was Harry?

_“You’ve returned.”_

Grey eyes widened and Draco quickly turned to see a figure standing in the doorway of the room. It was too dark to make out the person’s features, but by his voice Draco could discern it was a male.

“Who are you? Why are you here?” Draco demanded, eyes narrowed.

The figure laughed, and it was a mirthless, chilling sound that sent chills though the blond. His insides twisted. Draco recognized that laugh.

 _“Some Slytherin you are,”_ the voice said harshly. _“You had one task for yourself. Becoming stronger, was it? But look at yourself. I smell nothing but fear.”_

Draco’s vision began to flicker at the edges, his chest stuttering as his breathing became labored. He felt frozen with fear.

The figure seemed to enjoy his struggle. _“Oh, so you haven’t entirely disregarded my presence.”_

“What are you doing here?” Draco forced out. His hand twitched for the safety of his wand, though he had no recollection of having casted a spell since his return to Harry. Could he even do magic still? He suddenly wondered with panic.

 _“Me? I think the more important question is, why are you here?”_ the voice countered cruelly. _“Have you already forgotten? Why are you here, Draco? What are you doing in this room?”_

Draco’s eyebrows furrowed. “My memories —”

 _“What about them?”_ The voice was taunting him, like he knew exactly why Draco was there and was just playing with him.

“I lost them —”

_“No.”_

Draco felt taken aback. “What?”

_“You haven’t lost them. They’re right there. In front of you.”_

A long, narrow finger pointed in front of him and the blond looked down to see the school trunk lying at his feet. His blond brows furrowed.

“I don’t understand.”

The figure’s dark shoulders seemed to shake with wry amusement. _“You haven’t lost anything. They’re right inside that trunk — Draco Malfoy’s memories. All of them. Every single one.”_

Grey eyes flickered downwards, disbelieving.

“What? How?”

A low chuckle sounded from the dark form. _“Draco Malfoy, it is because of me that you are here. It’s because of me that your memories are scattered and deteriorated.”_

Draco frowned, bemused and feeling a slight sense of panic as he realized the figure’s words were true. He knew this person. He wasn’t sure how, but he knew. And he felt terrified of him.

_“You have some vague recollection of me, which I have allowed, but you do not remember me in my entirety; because any memory of what I am and what I have done would break you. You remain weak, Draco Malfoy, despite your previous ambition to become otherwise. And due to that weakness, I remain strong and I am able to exist within you.”_

“Within me? What the hell are you talking about?” Draco demanded, flustered and anxious to get away from this place. “Who the hell are you?”

 _“You know who I am,”_ the figure hissed menacingly. _“You know exactly what I am. You’re just denying your own thoughts.”_ The man walked closer towards Draco, who stumbled back a step in alarm. _“I am the one who holds your memories hostage.”_

Draco attempted to regain his footing and he glared at the shadowy figure as he spoke.

“Why? Who the hell are you to manipulate my own mind?” he spat, unwilling to rise to the unknown man’s dark banter. He didn’t know whether to believe the figure’s words or not.

The man’s chuckle grew sinister in response, much to Draco’s dismay. _“How does one control one’s pet?”_ the figure asked sardonically. _“Through rigorous training that incorporates consequences. This, Draco Malfoy, is a consequence for having dared to defy me.”_

An onslaught of horrifying images and sounds suddenly crippled the blond’s body. He gasped and fell forward as bloodcurdling screams sounded from all around him. Cries and yells echoed throughout the room, and they sounded so familiar, so recognizable. The very thought that Draco might have known where they came from haunted him. Fire and smoke permeated the air. It brought with it the stench of death and decay. And green eyes.

A girl, women, children — all of them dead, killed. By his hand. He’d relished in tearing the families apart. He’d enjoyed taking their lives.

Draco felt faint trying to dismiss the assault of memories, his memories. He clawed at his hair, scrunched his eyes in the wake of overwhelming shame and pain that filled him to the very core.

He was a monster. A cruel, vicious animal. He’d done nothing to stop it. He’d failed. Mors had won. Mors had control of him.

Then the disgusting scent of vomit and mold filled his nostrils and he abruptly looked down at his wounded hands to see them entirely coated in blood. His fingers were broken, some were even blasted off. As his eyes roamed lower, he noticed that layers of skin on his arms had been torn off.

The pain didn’t hit at first but it soon coursed over him in waves, and he began screaming and crying in agony. It was excruciating, so much more painful than _Crucio_. This unbearable pain within his mind and surging throughout his body hurt so bloody much and Draco felt ready to give up.

He couldn’t do it. He was going to die. Death would be such a relief away from these waves of pain and torture and screams and suffering. Draco was ready to give in to such promising freedom. He wanted it all to go away. He couldn’t do this. It was too much.

_“So weak.”_

Everything stopped. The pain, the screams, the scent of fire and burning bodies, the aftermath of torture — it all ended.

Draco opened his eyes, not realizing he’d closed them. He found himself crouched on his side on the floor, laying in a fetal position that might’ve shamed him if not for the images and sounds that had caused it.

With effort, he struggled to sit up but he was shaking too much. His nerves felt fried from the overwhelming sensations and Draco had to settle for glaring ineffectually in the direction of the shadowy figure. The dark shape seemed smug, and his demeanor riled Draco.

“What the hell did you do to me?” the blond demanded, his voice weak.

_“I showed you an ounce of your forgotten memories.”_

His words struck Draco with frightening clarity and the blond felt his insides grow cold with terror.

“That was real?” he muttered, his words laden with distress.

 _“You cannot process the truth,”_ the voice spoke in a wicked tone. _“But your reality is what you saw. It showed you what you are now, what you’ve become.”_

Draco’s breathing stuttered and he felt feverish. The world fell away, drained of all color as he began to finally comprehend what was going on. It was his greatest fear.

The other man knew this. His grin was hidden but Draco could easily discern it in his voice. _“You are a killer, Draco Malfoy.”_ The blond felt his heart lurch. _“As long as you live, I will make sure to remind you of that fact. Your weakness is your downfall.”_

“Why the memories?” Draco questioned. “Why take them all away?”

 _“You’ve witnessed what would happen if I return them all to you. You wouldn’t survive. I need your vessel, which constitutes I keep you sane and alive by withholding certain memories_.” Bright teeth gleamed as the man’s grin grew _. “The rest are collateral.”_

“Why give me back the memories of my mother, then?” the blond asked, unsure whether to trust what he was hearing. Surely, this was all just a bad nightmare.  

“ _To take them away later_ ,” the figure answered cruelly. “ _If you do not obey. Imagine the heartbreak of a mother whose son would turn her away for no longer recognizing her, or the anguish of a loved one as they look upon vacant, dismissive eyes.”_

Draco sucked in a harsh breath. “You can’t do that.”

“ _Oh, I already have. I’ve taken everything save only the memories that you need to carry out my orders. You needed to know about the existence of magic, the wizarding world, our Dark Lord.”_ The figure laughed. _“Harry Potter.”_

“What, why?” Draco demanded harshly. “Why Harry?”

The man didn’t answer.

“What do you want with him?” Draco screamed, heart thudding rapidly in his chest. “You can’t have him!” The figure remained silent. “I won’t let you get to him. I bloody swear it!”

The edges of Draco’s vision suddenly began to dim. He vaguely felt the sensation of falling away as his eyes tried to concentrate on the shadowy figure. Platinum blond hair came into focus and he saw a glimpse of narrowed red eyes.

“I won’t let you get him!” Draco continued to yell, even as the room around him began to disappear, taking with it the form of the dark, blond man. He was left in a vast blanket of darkness. His limbs felt heavy, his eyelids like stones against his eyes. He felt so weak.

 

* * *

 

 

Draco felt disconnected from everything. He felt lost in time and space, with no tether to reality as he floated in nothingness.

But then he felt an awareness. He felt a familiar presence nearby. It tugged at something with him and Draco felt himself grasp onto it like a lifeline. Then he felt his lips move in a mumble, “. . . Harry.” Ringing sounded in his ears and he dimly heard someone calling to him from far away. _Harry_.

“Mr. Malfoy, come back to us now . . .”

“What’s wrong? Why isn’t he waking up?”

“Patience, Mr. Potter.”

Then Draco felt a cool, relaxing sensation at his temple. It made it easier to clear his muddled, aching mind and he could finally focus on one feeling at a time.

“That’s it. You’re nearly there. Open your eyes.”

He felt compelled to listen to the voice. He blinked his eyes, finding it much easier than a few moments before. Bright light filled his vision and Draco found himself in the familiar surroundings of the Headmistress’ Office.

“Draco, are you alright?” a voice came from his left.

Draco turned his head slightly, not wanting to aggravate the headache that suddenly bloomed behind his eyes.

Green filled his vision.

“Harry?” he whispered, his voice sounding exhausted. Draco wanted to groan.

The other boy gave him a weak grin. “Yeah, it’s me.”

“Mr. Malfoy,” the gentle voice from before interrupted. “Drink this potion, it will help with the pain.”

A small glass vial filled with a purple potion was handed to him. Draco fumbled for it, normally cautious of ingesting unknown potions but at the moment not caring even if it was a poison. At least that would put an end to the pain that wracked his body. He hurriedly tipped the contents into his mouth, vaguely registering the ingredients he tasted on his tongue. A moment later, he felt his shoulders relax as the potion worked its magic through his system. His body lost its tension and his head dropped forward as he closed his eyes. Draco inhaled several slow, deep breaths before releasing them.

“That’s it. Relax now, son,” Draco heard the Healer encourage to him. Then away from him, “I’ve finished my examination and I concur with Madam Pomfrey’s diagnosis of Mr. Malfoy having dissociative amnesia.”

Draco frowned.

No, no that wasn’t right. He didn’t have amnesia.

“There are multiple holes in his memory that suggest trauma or a suchlike incident that has caused Mr. Malfoy to block unpleasant memories.”

No, they were taken from me, Draco wanted to tell them. But he no longer had any energy. He kept his head down.

“What is your suggestion, then, Healer Colby?” the Headmistress asked.

There was a pause. “Along with the cloudiness inside his mind, I sensed another magical force occurring within his neurocognitive network.”

“Explain, Healer Colby.”

There was a slight shuffle next to him. “Well, I mean to ask Mr. Malfoy if he sensed or saw anything while I conducted my examination. Visions, feelings, or sounds.”

Draco opened his eyes, seeing the rest of the occupants staring at him with mixed expressions. All of them looked expectant for his response.

He took a steady breath. “I only saw broken pieces,” Draco lied. “Of different memories. But I do remember a bit more than before.” He glanced at the Headmistress. “I remember you, Professor McGonagall.” He glanced at Harry then out of the corner of his eye. “And your friends. I remember Weasley and Granger.”

Harry looked relieved. The Headmistress nodded in acknowledgement.

“Do you remember what happened in your absence, then? Do you remember how you were able to cross onto Hogwarts’ grounds?” she questioned, her eyes calculating through the lens of her glasses.

Flashes of screams, fire, red eyes filled his vision; a blurry memory of his former potions master standing before him, apologizing.

Draco hesitated.

“Well, Mr. Malfoy?” McGonagall prompted, slightly impatient.

“No. I don’t remember,” he responded, his expression carefully blank. Draco felt internally grateful for the years perfecting his Malfoy mask. It came especially in handy for this moment when all he wanted was to scream and cry for help.

McGonagall carefully studied him for a moment more but Draco was confident she would find nothing. Even if she’d been a talented Legilimens like Dumbledore had been, he was sure the dark being inside him would’ve taken care of shielding his mind. He’d seemed to have fooled the Healer, at any rate.

“How does he get the rest of his memories back?” Harry broke in, voice anxious.

Healer Colby turned to him. “With plenty of rest and meditation exercises, which either Madam Pomfrey or I can teach you. I’m sure, in time, Mr. Malfoy will be able to completely recover his memories. However, I would take caution to avoid unnecessary stress or additional trauma as that would hinder his recovery.”

Draco held back a snort.

“Then his loss of memories was not magically induced?” McGonagall asked.

The Healer frowned. “If you mean through _Obliviate_ or other similar spells, then no. Mr. Malfoy did not lose his memories; they are just hidden away for the time being. I’m positive they’ll manifest in due course.”

“And the emotional toll that might result from recovering traumatic memories?”

The Healer paused, biting his lip in his unease. “There’s no doubt there will be an emotional backlash as a result of Mr. Malfoy recovering any horrific memories. In a very real sense, the memory block most likely contributes to him being sane and well at the moment. But he will recover them eventually and I would suggest him being near loved ones and having a support group nearby when that happens.”

The Headmistress nodded in response.

“Then I thank you for your services, Healer Colby. I’ll be sure to call if I have further questions.”

The man nodded once, then turned to both boys with a last smile. “I hope to meet you again, Mr. Malfoy. You’re a very strong man to have survived an event.”

Then he left.

Leaving Draco’s fate in the Headmistress’ hands.

“It seems that you are neither Marked nor a follower of You-Know-Who’s defense,” the Headmistress said directly to Draco. The blond looked at her and nodded in confirmation. “Then you are here to ask for Sanctuary?”

“I am,” Draco said, and his voice shook only a little.

“Then I hereby grant it. You will stay within Hogwarts, work with Madame Pomfrey to recover your memories, and you will be given a room —”

“He can stay with me,” Harry abruptly broke in.

Draco tried to control the flush rising in his ears. The Headmistress raised an eyebrow.

“Are you sure, Mr. Potter? I’ll be honest. Before this moment, I had no idea that your rivalry with Mr. Malfoy had come to an end.”

“Well, erm, it has,” Harry said lamely, feet shuffling.

McGonagall’s brow rose further and her lip seemed to twitch in amusement. “Then, I suppose he remains in your charge. I will inform Auror Kingsley that his investigation into the Dark Lord’s puppet, Mors, will have to be put on hold.” Draco tried not to flinch. “For now, we need to focus our efforts on keeping Hogwarts safe. Which means,” she said, sternly looking at Harry. “If you need any assistance, Harry, you will come to me. Understand?”

The other boy nodded, but his eyes burned with a stubborn intensity that everyone else in the room easily recognized.

The Headmistress gave a heavy sigh. “Then I will see you both tomorrow at breakfast.”

Both boys nodded and left the room together to retreat to Harry’s room for the night.

As they walked the hallways, Draco’s nerves shook with uneasiness at the realization that was just now hitting him with distinct clarity: he’d met Mors.

He finally knew the Dark Lord’s Assassin that everyone kept mentioning to him. They all thought Draco was Mors. And no wonder. He was.

He’d killed so many innocent people. He’d raided so many villages and towns.

The images and sounds that had overwhelmed him before came to the forefront of his mind in a more muddled sense. He felt slightly disconnected from the memories, and Draco could only assume that it was due to Mors trying to protect him from going insane. It was bloody working. He had the memories of what he’d done but only through what felt like an outsider’s perspective. He felt detached from it. Like he was watching a muggle movie.

“Hey,” Harry’s voice came from beside him. Draco looked up to see that they’d stopped walking. They were in an unrecognizable part of the castle and a simple door stood in front of them. Draco felt mortified that he’d been so out of it, he couldn’t even distinguish where he was in the castle. “We’re at my rooms now.”

He placed his hand on the doorway, and Draco wondered at the intricate spells in place that would recognize Harry by just him putting his hand to the door. Perhaps it detected his magical signature?

The door opened quickly and Draco followed Harry inside the room. The blond expected to see shades of burgundy and gold engulfing the wide space but he was pleasantly pleased to notice that the furnishings were dressed in cool hues of blue and gray. The room was simple and contained a desk, two loveseat couches, a fireplace, and a separate open space that Draco assumed to be the bedroom. A four-poster queen-sized bed with blue coverlets lay in its corner. Two doors on either side of the bed gave Draco the impression that the room also contained its own closet area and bathroom.  

Draco was suitably impressed at the open, wide space. It rivaled the size of his own suite back at the Manor. Unlike his room, however, there were no windows and Draco was quickly brought back to reality with the reminder that this room was now his hideaway from the Dark Lord. Both he and Harry would share this space.

The blush from before warmed the tips of his ears and Draco turned slightly to Harry, perhaps to make a witty rejoinder at them having to share a space together.

But his retort died a swift death at the glare Harry was throwing his way. Draco inhaled tensely.

“Now,” said Harry, his voice like steel and his green eyes hard. “What really happened back in the office?”

 


	7. Chapter Seven

Draco fought hard not to let his panic show through his expression.

“So typical,” he scoffs, letting himself fall back into his cold Malfoy mask. “I am forced to endure an irritating mental examination, and you’re the one who’s having trouble with your memories remembering what just happened.”

Harry’s eyes flicker briefly, almost looking doubtful for moment. But Draco’s relief is short lived as Harry’s expression quickly clears and his eyes narrow at the blond.

“Cut it out, Malfoy,” he retorts angrily. “I’m talking about what happened with the Healer.”

“What exactly, Harry?” Draco snorts, passing by him quickly in the direction of the bed in the corner. It looked so comfortable and welcoming, and honestly Draco was so _tired_ from everything that had happened. He just wanted a few minutes to himself to think and rest. Trust Potter to ruin it all.

Harry watches him pass by, frowning as the blond shrugs off his robes and places them neatly and folded on the nearby couch. He notices the weariness set in Draco’s shoulders. Harry half wants to end the conversation there but a memory of Draco back at the office, pale and shaken, reminds the Gryffindor of why he was pressing for an answer. He has to know if Draco’s memories are back; if he remembers what happened, knew of any useful information about the rest of the horcruxes, or recalls anything about Mors.

“When the Healer had asked if you’d remembered,” Harry starts, his voice weary but persistent, “You’d told him you hadn’t.” Draco’s back was facing him, so Harry couldn’t see his expression, but he notices the blond’s shoulders stiffen. “And when he’d asked if you’d sensed anything during the examination, you’d said you had only seen broken pieces of memories.”

“Excellent commentary, Potter,” Draco snaps, still facing away from Harry. He could feel his impatience rising. “I was there. But it’s good to know that your memory is sufficient enough to recall a conversation that happened less than half an hour ago.”

“But you lied,” Harry presses on, ignoring Draco’s angry retort and seeing it for the nervous act that it was. “You do remember. You remember everything, don’t you? And you saw something. I don’t what it was, but I’m sure —”

“So what if I did?” snarls Draco, whirling around to throw a harsh glare towards Harry. “What does it matter if you think I lied?”

“It matters a great deal, you prat,” says Harry frustratingly. “This is what we’ve been waiting for. Why would you lie like that?”

Draco’s brows furrow and he frowns heavily as thoughts race through his mind.

He couldn’t risk telling Harry. Mors was inside him. He could wipe Draco’s memory and then he wouldn’t remember anyone or anything. He’d lose and that would give Mors the opportunity to gain control again; Draco couldn’t risk that. He couldn’t risk losing Harry. Not again.

But he also couldn’t lie. Draco was a fool to have let his guard down around the foolish Gryffindor and now it was costing him. Harry could read him like a book, and that was just not on.

Draco forces himself to meet those intense green eyes and stare into them, wishing with every part of himself that Harry could just read his thoughts and understand everything. He wanted Harry to save him. But he was beyond help now. Draco was on his own.

Draco shifts his stance; lets his expression slip a bit. He feels a tear he’d been holding back spill slowly down his cheek.

“Harry,” says Draco brokenly. He doesn’t have to work hard to sound pitiful and broken.

Harry frowns, a bit thrown at Draco’s sudden change in attitude. “What is it? What do you remember?”

“Everything,” Draco tells him. “I remember all of it.”

The other boy jerks slightly, not expecting the admission so soon. “You remember . . . ?”

“My parents. Hogwarts. The War. Being kidnapped.” Draco looks at Harry. “Being tortured.”

Harry winces.

“I remember my aunt having fun blasting my toes off, and my uncle and his brother carving me alive while they both laughed; their laughter still rings in my head.” Draco’s eyes turn haunted and distant. “The Death Eaters took turns throwing the worst kinds of curses at me, holding me down and letting me bleed. The Dark Lord had orders to heal me after each session so I was able to survive. But it still hurt. It hurt so much.”

Draco’s voice breaks as it trails off on his last words. He vaguely notices the way Harry had begun to stare at Draco, looking horrified as he listened to the blond’s account of what happened during his imprisonment. In any other circumstance, Draco would almost be amused to see the Gryffindor at a loss for words.

“It nearly broke me. I don’t know how it didn’t,” Draco continues, his voice sounding detached of emotion. “Then they brought Blaise in. He was polyjuiced to look like you.” Draco remembers the helplessness he had felt; the absolute fear when he’d seen Harry’s body in front of him, bound and captured. “The Dark Lord tried to order me to kill you but I resisted. He cast _Imperius_ on me. It worked at first until I fought back.”

Draco sees Harry’s dark expression clear a bit, a look of pride shining along with tears in his eyes.

“It didn’t matter though. He killed Blaise right in front of me . . .” The image of those bright green eyes growing dull and devoid of life was burnt into Draco’s memory. He’d never forget seeing Harry’s lifeless figure in front of him.

It took a few moments after he’d spoken to realize the arms wrapped tightly around his waist, holding him close to Harry’s chest. Draco hadn’t even been aware of sitting down on the bed, but now Harry was sitting next to him and had buried his face into Draco’s neck.

“You thought it was me,” Harry’s voice rumbles from where it was pressed into the curve of his skin. His stubble scratched at the blond’s throat. “He killed Blaise, but you’d thought he’d killed me.”

Draco’s eyes are glassy, still lost in his memories as he remembers gazing into those green eyes and just screaming and screaming and screaming.

“I’m so sorry, love,” he hears distantly. “It’s ok now. I’m here, Draco. I’m alive and I’m here with you. You’re safe now.”

But he isn’t, Draco wants to scream. None of them are safe.

Mors is inside his head. While Draco didn’t know much, the dark being still had access to important information about the Order and Harry’s mission. As long as Draco is alive, he’s a hidden threat within the walls of Hogwarts.

Not to mention that the Dark Lord was on the move and would kill all of them first chance he got.

Draco almost whimpers and feels his arms moving before he could stop himself, clenching into the back of Harry’s shirt. He clings onto the other boy like his life depended on it and Draco feels Harry’s embrace grow tighter in response.  

“We’re ok, Draco. We’re ok,” Harry repeats in a soothing tone, running his hands through the back of Draco’s hair. “I’m sorry I wasn’t there, love. I’m sorry I couldn’t save you. I should have gone after you. I should’ve done something.”

Yes, you should have! Draco wanted to cry to Harry but he swallows the words down. It’s useless to voice them out loud. He just clings harder onto Harry.

“But I’m here now. I’ll keep you safe, Draco,” Harry says into the curve of his neck, his soft breath sending warmth throughout Draco’s body. It was a sensation he’d almost forgotten after nearly a year of being without the other boy. It relaxes him, reminds him of good times.

“How?” breathes Draco. “We’re hiding away in this castle while the Dark Lord’s forces only get stronger. How are we safe?”

Harry closes his eyes. “We’re getting closer to destroying him, Draco. Just stay by my side and I’ll keep you safe. I won’t let him get you again.”

A last tear slips down Draco’s cheek. “Promise?” he asks, even though he knows it’s pointless.

Harry pulls Draco closer, pressing his face alongside Draco’s now and into his blond strands. Draco shivers unintentionally, his heart skipping a beat.

“I promise, Draco,” Harry whispers, and lets the familiar feeling and scent of Draco wash over him. His hands wander across the boy’s back, enjoying the feeling of Draco’s lithe muscles through his top.

Draco hums in response, nuzzling into Harry’s hair and letting his lips brush the other boy’s ear.

“Hmm,” Draco sighs. “It was so hard without you, Harry.”

Harry lets out a long, shaky breath. He pulls back slightly so he could stare into deep, gray eyes. Harry feels his heart clench at the crushing pain he sees inside them. “You have no idea how much I missed you, Draco,” Harry mutters, voice trembling. “I need you so much, and I will always be sorry for not trying harder to get you back. I’ll regret it for the rest of my life. But you’re here now, and I’m here. We’re together, and I swear on my magic that I will do everything that I can to keep you safe.” He caresses Draco’s cheek with the back of his hand, never straying from staring into his grey eyes. “I’m yours, Draco . . . if you’ll still have me?”

Draco wants to sob.

What on earth could he say to that? Trust Potter to become articulate when it counted.

“Merlin, Harry. I can’t seem to stay away from you,” sighs Draco, almost to himself. Then in a louder voice, “I guess I’ll have to, won’t I. Can’t turn down a protection service like yours, oh Boy-Who-Lived.”

Harry laughs at that, and something deep inside Draco’s chest snaps painfully into place. He watches the carefree way the Gryffindor tosses back his head and the crooked little upturn of Harry’s lips as he throws the blond a wicked smile; Draco feels himself fall a little more in love.

“Glad you’re so agreeable, Malfoy,” Harry chuckles, his laughter slowly dying down until only his wicked smirk remained. And Merlin, seeing Harry’s smile was everything — it was tender and hot all at once.

Draco squirms a little, unable to help himself. The movement catches Harry’s attention and his usual green eyes darken with hunger.

“Fuck, Potter,” Draco whispers, his voice growing husky.

Harry feels his pants tighten.

“Malfoy,” he breathes back, voice just as low.

“I’m still yours too.” It was meant to be a statement of fact, but Draco is a bit shamed to realize that it comes out sounding unsure.

He doesn’t see Harry’s eyes become half-lidded with arousal, though, or the expression of bliss that sweeps across his face. But he hears the arousal deep in his voice.

“Always, Draco,” Harry nearly growls. “I want you so much.”

“Yes,” Draco whispers, shivering. “Yes, Harry.”

“I missed you.”

Draco feels dizzy with longing, almost like he was falling. Then he realizes he actually is falling, backwards into the bed as Harry presses gently down on top of him.

“Harry . . .”

“Yes, love?” Harry says softly, trailing light kisses on the smooth skin of Draco’s throat.

The blond nearly sobs at the gentle but overwhelming caresses. He tips his head backwards, exposing more of his neck to Harry.

“I thought you didn’t want . . .” But his words trail off at the feeling of Harry licking a long stripe from Draco’s collarbone to his throat. Draco shivers almost violently in response, and the ability to make words flies from his mind.

“Hmm?” comes from Harry, who’d made it his mission to make Draco come apart. He shifts his hips slowly, letting his hands slip under the blond’s shirt.

Their erections brush each other and Draco lets out a muffled cry.

“Harry, Harry,” he found himself chanting, sliding his own hands underneath Harry’s shirt so that he could graze skin. “I want . . . _fuck!_ ”

Harry’s lips twitch into a smile as he works to make a visible line of love bites down the side of Draco’s neck.

“What was that?” he teases, raising himself a bit so that he could tweak one of Draco’s nipples under his shirt.

A low moan escapes Draco. Oh, how he relished having Harry’s hands all over him.

“I want . . . I want . . .” But he becomes nearly incoherent as Harry simultaneously thrusts his clothed erection hard against Draco’s and pinches the pink skin of his nipples.

“Yes, love?” Harry asks, dipping his head lower to lick at the skin Draco’s shirt didn’t cover.

Draco lets out a soft groan of frustration.

“Kiss me, you git. I want you to —” The rest of his words are instantly swallowed as Harry hurriedly presses his lips against Draco’s.

Draco gasps softly, his hands curling into the material of Harry’s shirt as he drags the boy closer to him. He arches quickly into the kiss, licking a stripe against Harry’s bottom lip and coaxing the warm mouth above him to open. He carefully pushes his tongue in, stroking and teasing with gentle caresses, and Draco feels a triumphant rush when he feels Harry groan happily against him.

“Merlin,” Harry gasps, inhaling deeply like he was starving for air.

“Just Draco,” the blond quips briefly, then slants his head to the side to deepen the kiss as his hands curl into the messy head of hair he knows and loves.

Draco feels a rumble against him as Harry both groans and chuckles into his mouth, and then Draco’s crying out in pleasure as Harry retaliates with a particularly hard thrust against his own length.

“Fuck, Harry,” Draco whispers, his damp forehead pressed to Harry’s and his fists painfully tight in the boy’s hair.  

Harry grins. “Is that what you want, yeah?” His green eyes twinkle madly, and Draco’s heart lurches wonderfully at the idea of having sex with Harry, having the boy inside of him. He nods quickly, at a loss for words.

But it doesn’t matter because Harry responds beautifully.

With a quick and graceful wave of his hand, the rest of their clothes instantly vanish and then Draco is staring wide-eyed at the stunning stretch of lean, wiry muscles and tan skin. His mouth waters at the familiar sight, except no, there are scars on Harry’s body that Draco’s never seen before. Draco’s brows furrow but before he can comment, Harry quickly kisses him.

“Later, love. I’ll explain later.” His words are hushed but sincere, and then Harry is dipping down to suck another love bite against Draco’s naked chest; all thoughts of the war and the time stolen from them are pushed away to the back of Draco’s mind.

He moans loudly, encouraging Harry to go lower and lower until finally —

“Oh, _fuck_ , Harry!” Draco’s legs naturally fall open as Harry licks the foreskin of the head of Draco’s cock into his wet mouth. Slender, elegant fingers dig hard into his messy hair and loud moans echo through the bedchamber.

Draco sobs and cries out as Harry touches and tastes him; he doesn’t resist when Harry pushes his thighs further apart, presses his fingers into Draco’s skin, and spreads his flawless, milky-white cheeks apart. The tingle of a spell later, and Draco knows Harry has wandlessly and silently cleaned and loosened him. Familiar fingers dip against and inside his hole, and then Draco is arching into Harry as he pushes into the blond.

“Oh, _Merlin_ , oh fuck,” Draco moans, feeling his body practically melt and open itself for Harry’s fingers and, hopefully soon, his cock. One finger turns into two, and then Harry is scissoring him open, getting him ready. Draco nearly moans at the thought of Harry’s cock. He's already dangerously close to coming, and he is near to unashamedly begging if the bastard takes any longer. “I’m ready,” Draco pants, eyes half-lidded with pleasure while his hips practically hump the air as Harry’s fingers twist and fuck into him. “Harry, oh _please_ , Merlin . . . do it already you bloody prat, oh _fuck_ . . .”

Harry hitches Draco’s knees up and gently dips the tip of his tongue into him. Draco’s pink hole glistens moistly up at him, perfectly open, lubed, and on display. It makes Harry nearly purr in satisfaction.

“Want me, Malfoy?” Harry growls before he shoves his tongue in as far as he can, opening his jaw wide. He notices Draco’s hands slip and claw onto the surface of the sheets, and vaguely hears the blond scream his answer in ecstasy. He can imagine the blond with his head thrown back, grey eyes feverish with want. The mental image nearly makes Harry come right there and he quickly decides he needs to have his lover now.

He sits up, wandlessly casts another spell that causes Draco’s hole to trickle obscenely with lube, then lines himself as he meets Draco’s eyes.

“You ready, love?” he asks, his eyes level with Draco’s gray ones.

Draco feels a familiar sensation wash over him at Harry’s words. He grins softly, not looking away as he responds in turn. “Yes, Harry, want you inside me.” 

Harry beams gently at him and then steadily presses the head of his cock inside of Draco. His heart nearly bursts with pleasure and amazement at the warm softness he feels, and both boys’ eyes remain locked as a single thought crosses each of their minds once Harry is fully sheathed inside Draco.

 _Home_.

Harry’s limbs shake as he struggles not to collapse from the onslaught of emotions that threaten to consume him. He almost feels like a baby for wanting to cry during sex, then a caress on his cheek makes him look down at Draco. His eyes go wide as he glimpses the shimmer of tears that fill Draco’s own.

“Harry,” Draco sighs, and utter contentment drips from his voice.

It tells Harry everything he needs to know, and he no longer cares if tears drip down his face as he rocks into Draco.

“Fuck, Draco. _Fuck_ , I missed you,” Harry whispers, half paying attention to the words spilling from his mouth.

They’re both together again. They’d gone through hell and back, but somehow, they’d remained alive and had ended up here — Draco wrapped in Harry’s arms, moaning beautifully as Harry makes sweet love to him. It was more than Harry could’ve dreamed of just a few months ago.

But here he was, angling his cock as he thrust deeply and repeatedly into Draco, savoring the screams of pleasure that emanated from the boy beneath him.

“So good, so perfect,” Draco sobs, thrashing his head back and forth as he rocks his hips higher into Harry. His legs were wrapped tightly around Harry’s hips and his arms were splayed wide, clutching hard onto the pillows behind him.

It was a fucking beautiful sight for Harry’s eyes. He felt sad to see it end, but he was about to come soon. He ignores the burning in his thighs and fucks Draco harder and faster, dipping his head so that he could catch that wonderous, gorgeous mouth in his. He hears Draco’s whimpers, feels the blond raise his hands to cradle his cheeks.

“Come for me, love,” Harry whispers once, making sure to pull at Draco’s length at the same time.

The increased pleasure shoves Draco wonderfully over the edge and his shoulders press into the bed hard as he arches high. He comes in thick drops onto his stomach and it doesn’t stop even when Harry curses loudly and shoves into him hard.

Draco gasps as he feels Harry’s thick length pulse and throb inside him while Harry comes in rivulets. It pushes Draco over the edge even further and a spurt of release trickles out of the oversensitive head of his cock. 

“ _Fuck_ ,” Harry pants, hovering over Draco and hiding a wince in the blond’s neck as he lets his cock slip heavily out of Draco’s loosened hole.

A small gasp escapes Draco at the sensitive movement, and then a greater whoosh leaves him as Harry nearly collapses on top of Draco.

“Sorry love, just give me a moment,” Harry gasps. But he’s pleasantly surprised when he feels Draco wrap his limbs around Harry, holding him there as they both recover their strength.

“Git,” says Draco fondly.

Harry smiles and burrows deeper into Draco’s embrace.

A rush of warmth washes over Draco as he strokes the back of Harry’s head. He grins widely at the ceiling above him.

“I am yours,” Draco says to Harry, feeling truly peaceful in a long time. “Always and completely.”

He feels the upturn of Harry’s mouth against his chest and the gentle kiss that soon follows.

“Yes, love,” Harry sighs contentedly. He wraps his arms around Draco. “Mine. Yours. Always.”

For the rest of the night, they lay there intertwined. To an outsider, one wouldn’t know where each of their limbs began and ended. Which was just fine for them. They’d finally returned home to each other. And they’d fight like hell to keep themselves from being separated ever again.

 


	8. Chapter Eight

He didn’t remember falling asleep but he must have, for this sense of rightness and happiness that filled him felt like the beginnings of a wonderful dream.

Draco stirred to consciousness slowly, letting himself to briefly bask in the warm sunrays that washed over his eyelids as he woke. He yawned, and snuggled further into the comfortable sheets that covered him before Draco blinked once, then twice to clear his vision. Draco had a moment to notice that he was in an unfamiliar room in a bed that was definitely not his before a stir to his left made him look over. Instantly, Draco’s memories from the night before returned and a soft smile came to his face as he remembered. _Harry_.  

As if he’d heard his name, the gorgeous brunet groaned as Harry blinked his eyes awake. Harry stared up at the ceiling for a few seconds then turned towards Draco. A heart-stopping moment passed as they stared at one another. An adoring smile crossed Harry’s face.

“Hey,” he greeted Draco, his voice gravelly from sleep. Harry’s hair was freshly mussed, even more than usual, from sex and being in bed. The sheets had slipped down a bit, revealing Harry’s gorgeous body to the sunlight streaming through the windows. Draco felt his eyes become half-lidded as he watched Harry, taking in the wonderous sight. “How do you feel?” asked Harry, his green eyes watching the blond.

Draco smiled widely. “Wonderful. I missed you so much.”

“Then why’d you leave me?”

Draco’s breath froze in his chest. “What?”

Harry’s soft eyes suddenly flickered. He frowned at Draco. “Why did you leave?”

“Harry, I didn’t leave you,” Draco said, perplexed at the sudden turn of events. “They took me away. Do you really think I left you of my own volition?”

But Harry’s features were twisted and the brunet had sat up to glare violently at Draco.

“You left me!” he snarled.

Draco startled backwards, moving away quickly off the bed. “What the hell?”

“You left!!” came the snarling voice again. Louder this time. “Blood traitor!” And Harry’s eyes flashed red as he roared at Draco in an inhuman voice.

Absolute terror filled Draco as his eyes widened in realization before an abrupt pain similar to the _Cruciatus Curse_ filled his entire skull. Draco’s eyes squeezed tight and he began to claw harshly at the sides of his head.

“Traitor! You will die!” the voice swore in an earsplitting growl. And Draco was frightened, knowing the words to be true. He began to scream—

Draco’s eyelids flew open, his mouth still parted in a silent scream.

He looked around quickly, his body shaking as fear bubbled raw in his chest. Draco hurriedly glanced over at Harry beside him who was still blessedly asleep. Harry’s hair was freshly mussed and the sheets had slipped down a bit, revealing Harry’s bare chest to the dim glow from the fire.

The scene was familiar, almost exactly like his dream except that Harry’s room had no windows. It was an odd detail to notice at that moment. The room was very dark, with the only source of light glowing from the dim fire that burned in the fireplace.

Broken gasps could be heard in the darkness as Draco’s chest heaved with deep breaths, trying to calm his racing heart. Small beads of sweat dotted his face. They rolled off as Draco sat up straight so that he could swing his legs over the edge of the bed. He buried his face in his hands, scrubbing hard until his long fingers clung to the roots of his hair.

Merlin, Draco was bloody terrified. His chest ached sharply as he replayed the nightmare in his head. Draco’s eyes closed as he earnestly tried to rid the sight away but it was useless. The nightmare had been a warning, and it had been from the Dark Lord himself. Draco fully believed that. Somehow, the Dark Lord knew what he had done. Draco had disobeyed his orders that his Master had given to Mors, and now the Dark Lord was threatening him.

Draco stood, crossing the room quickly in hopes that the nearest door to him led to a bathroom. It did thankfully. Draco hurried to close the door after him before turning the shower on high. Steam filled the room a few minutes later as hot jets of water hit the porcelain tub, but Draco didn’t get in. He was paralyzed with fear. Draco leant heavily against the sink counter while his hands clenched tightly to its edges. He forced himself to look at his horrid reflection, meeting the bloodshot eyes in a face drained of color.

He was dimly aware of the water flowing in the shower but Draco felt disassociated from it. His body felt slow, sluggish. Like he was drunk. He tried to focus on his reflection, to anchor onto something so that his body wouldn’t suddenly give out.

Then Draco heard himself begin to laugh. It was a mocking, cruel sound. His shoulders shook with it.

Terrified, Draco forced his eyes to look straight.

Blood red eyes met his.

_You didn’t think I’d let you get off that easy._

Draco could clearly hear the words coming from inside his head. His reflection revealed an expression filled with mirth, but inside Draco’s heart was racing.

 _Your moment of weakness will be your downfall_.

Then Draco’s eyes flickered once before returning to their original gray as his expression cleared.

He drew a deep, shaky breath and hung his head low. Draco wanted to laugh. Or cry. Either one was an option since he felt like he was close to losing his mind. There was nothing like realizing your worst fears come true, after all.

A knock on the door made Draco freeze.

“Hey, you almost done in there?” Harry’s voice sounded from the other room.

Draco realized he hadn’t locked the door and hurriedly jumped into the shower when he saw the knob begin to turn. Hot water cascaded onto his skin, but Draco ignored the slight burn in his panic.

“Ever heard of knocking, Potter?” Draco sneered as he saw Harry’s head pop in to the room through the clear shower curtain. To his relief, his voice came out steady, not betraying the tangle of nerves that he felt inside. Draco began to wash himself.

There was a chuckle right outside the curtain. “I did, actually. It’s not my fault you didn’t lock the door,” laughed Harry.

Draco rolled his eyes as he washed his hair. “Your manners still need improvement, Potter. One just doesn’t barge into an occupied washroom.”

A sudden breeze swept across his backside, and Draco froze when he felt a presence behind him.

“Unless the person wants to join in and help his boyfriend,” Harry’s voice purred, right as Draco felt a strong pair of arms encircle his waist from behind.

Draco’s muscles tensed but he forced himself to relax. “Potter—” he began to protest.

“We need to talk to Hermione and Ron soon,” Harry broke in, picking up a washcloth. “If we shower at the same time, we’ll save both time and water.” He began to wash Draco’s back, taking great care around the sensitive areas of his skin.

Draco felt his breath hitch. “You’re worried about resource conservation?” he asked, his words coming out a bit shaky. Draco wasn’t sure if the nerves were still from fear of his dream or if it was spinning into lust from Harry’s grip on his skin. He sincerely hoped it was the latter since he was in need of a good distraction.

Harry’s deep chuckle sounded near his ear. “Not really. Just wanted an excuse to see you.”

His hands abruptly turned Draco around, and gray eyes met vivid green as Harry gently pushed the blond against the cold wall. Draco shivered at the clash of the cool tiles behind him and the gorgeous boy against his chest. Harry didn’t let him recover or catch his breath and captured Draco’s mouth in his as Harry began to kiss him hungrily.

Draco couldn’t help it. With the warm spray splashing against their bodies and Harry’s nude body sliding against his, the air in the shower had quickly grown intoxicated. Draco practically melted in Harry’s embrace, bringing his arms up to wrap around Harry’s naked shoulders to tug him even closer.

Their wet skin moved together, warming quickly from the hot water and their combined body heat. Draco was flushed from head to toe and Harry didn’t look any different. His hair was wet, the ends curling and dripping down against the skin of his temples and his cheeks. Draco moaned at the sight and opened his mouth wider for Harry to access. Harry groaned with approval, grasping the skin of Draco’s waist to bring him closer. Draco cried out with pleasure, rubbing himself against the other boy in his eagerness.

“Hnh, H-Harry. . .!” It was a pleasured, almost agonized sound that escaped Draco as their lengths rubbed sinuously together. Draco widened his stance to gain leverage, but then Harry’s hand abruptly hitched his leg up by the knee and wrapped it around his own waist. Harry began to thrust harder against the blond, who keened loudly in pleasure. “Yes!”

Draco felt helpless to his senses. Nothing mattered except Harry, touching Harry, holding Harry, having Harry inside him and around him. Draco forced himself to forget his worries from earlier, willing himself to become lost in the arms of his love. He wanted this, even if only for a moment before everything was taken away from him. Draco didn’t care if he was selfish. He wanted this, only this, at least one more time.

Without any more words between them, Harry and Draco found pleasure and lost themselves in each other several times in the shower before moving back to their bed.

Harry moved with a fierce need to reclaim the blond after months of worry and fear for him, relishing in the sounds he elicited from his lover as Harry took him apart over and over.

Draco opened himself entirely to Harry in return, aching to feel safe and loved, even if it was only temporary. He wrapped his arms and legs around Harry, clutching the boy to him tightly, and turned his head away so that Harry wouldn’t see the tears slip from his eyes.

It was peaceful afterwards, as both boys lay together with their skin flushed and hearts still racing. Harry sighed softly as he lay on his back, with Draco’s damp head tucked in one of his arms and atop his chest. The blond, meanwhile, swirled abstract patterns on the other boy’s skin as they both waited to come down from their high.

“Brilliant,” Harry murmured to the ceiling, his expression filled with content as he gave a worn but blissful smile.

Draco gave his own tired grin as he watched Harry, nodding his head in agreement. He was sore and he hurt _everywhere_ , but Draco was sure he’d never felt more satisfied. “Time for a real shower now, I suppose?” he asked in dry amusement, not necessarily fond of the contents currently leaking out of him.

Harry chuckled. He slowly sat up, taking care to move gingerly with his own sore muscles as he rose to his feet. He offered a hand to Draco, who took it without much thought and followed Harry back towards the shower.

This time, both boys kept their hands to themselves as they washed, save for throwing warm, tender looks at each other and exchanging a few chaste kisses.

Harry finished washing first, wrapping a towel around his waist and leaving the bathroom with a soft smirk thrown over his shoulder.

Draco watched him with his own wicked grin and raised brow before returning to his washing routine. The blond was glad to finish his washing alone. Draco relished in the lasting quiet that followed and gave him some peace at last. And even though Draco ached tenderly in areas he wasn’t used to anymore, he savored the high that still sang through his nerves.

Merlin, sex with Harry was amazing. If felt like each time they were together he learned something new about the boy; what the other boy loved, what made him cry out with pleasure. The heady power over Harry’s body felt warm and addicting. Draco could feel himself growing nearly obsessed with it.  

And that scared him.

Draco remembered the Dark Lord’s mission for Mors to find Harry. Now he was in the same bloody castle as him. Harry was vulnerable here with his guard down. And Draco could either keep fighting Mors, or leave.

A part of Draco, his Slytherin side, wanted to flee where it’d be safer and away from all the Order members that currently roamed the castle. Draco was smart. He could handle a life on the run. He had his own vault that he still had access to and after Draco withdrew the amount that he’d need, Draco could live a life in luxury somewhere in France. Away from the forsaken War. Away from Harry . . .

A sharp pain lanced his chest.

Draco inwardly shook his head. No, it was an impossible dream. Mors would still be with him. Draco couldn’t run away from a being that was inside of him.

Which left him the only option of staying at Hogwarts where it was safe. Anything else would put Harry at risk. Hell, even staying in Hogwarts could put the boy in danger because of Mors’ influence. Draco would have to stay strong to prevent Mors from gaining power. He’d have to keep his Occlumency shields up so that the dark being inside his head wouldn’t gain any more access to his thoughts than it already had.

It’d be difficult, and Draco wasn’t exactly sure it would work. The dark magic that tied Draco and Mors together confused and worried the blond. Draco still didn’t fully understand the ritual that the Dark Lord had performed on him, but he could find out. While Draco didn’t have access to the Malfoy library in his current situation, the Hogwarts Library was satisfactory enough. It would have to do, at any rate.

With those troubling thoughts in mind, Draco finished his shower. He dressed quickly in the bathroom and walked out to join Harry, where the other boy was leaning against the entrance to his room, grinning at Draco.

The sight of Harry, though they’d just spent the last several hours together, gave renewed butterflies in Draco’s stomach; except, these weren’t the light and innocent, fluttery ones he’d felt before.

While Draco and Harry made their way to join Harry’s friends, with Harry explaining what the Golden Trio had been working on along the way, Draco tried to ignore the lingering dread that filled his stomach.

 

* * *

 

“We know where the next one is!”

Draco’s ears nearly bled from Granger’s shrill scream as he and Harry entered the dusty, unused classroom the Golden Trio had apparently been meeting in. Draco had walked in first but the moment Granger and Weasley had spotted Harry follow in behind him, their wary gazes curved into excitement.

“Easy Granger, I’d like to keep my sense of hearing while I’m young,” Draco snarked as he searched for a corner of the room with the least number of cobwebs. He found a nearby stool that he quickly spelled clean before taking a seat and when Draco glanced up, both Granger and Weasley were staring at him with wide eyes.

“You’re different,” Granger remarked, her excitement fading a little as she studied Draco with a frown.

Harry glanced between them, fully aware of how Draco appeared now. The air around Draco had changed with the return of his memories, with his snark and arrogance also having returned. He was almost like the Draco Malfoy they’d attended classes with, Slytherin Ice Prince and all. Only Harry could see the real Draco underneath.

But in truth, Draco was different. They all were. In subtle ways, they’d all grown and matured since sixth year, each from their own experiences. Some would say they’d been hardened, having suffered through things in the last year that no other seventeen-year old should have witnessed, let alone lived through.

It was a sad thought, but it was the truth — none of them were who they were the last time they’d walked these halls a year ago. The war had changed them deeply.

As Harry gazed at Hermione’s weary womanly figure, Ron’s hardened and suspicious stare, and Draco’s overly familiar ice-cold Malfoy mask, he resignedly realized just how much.

Harry hid a sigh.

“We went to the Headmistress’ Office and Draco met with a Mind Healer,” Harry began, before proceeding to tell the two of what happened in McGonagall’s office and how Draco remembered more of his memories now.

Earlier in the hall, Harry had explained to Draco which of the horcruxes they’d destroyed and which ones still needed to be found. Harry told him how his wand had been broken and that he’d been relying on wandless magic since, not that many others knew, and how the Order was rallying to protect Hogwarts and its inhabitants from an attack. Hogwarts currently played as a safe-haven for many wizards and witches in England, as it was one of the most secured areas at the moment. Even the Aurors had taken to protecting Hogwarts as well, since the Ministry had been corrupted and taken over by Voldemort’s Death Eaters.

Draco had taken everything in stride, having known some of the current events somehow already. He didn’t know if he’d found out while Mors had taken control of him, or if he had in some way assumed the state of the wizarding world when he’d first arrived at Hogwarts. Either way, Draco waited for Harry to finish explaining to the other two how Draco could be trusted now that they knew for sure that Draco was not working for the Dark Lord.

If only they knew the truth, Draco thought darkly to himself. But Draco wasn’t fool enough to tell Harry his reality. Even if Mors would allow it, Harry’s “savior” habit to risk his life for another’s would kick in and he’d eventually pay the price for Draco’s failure to protect his own self.

“So, you really were tortured then?” Weasley’s wary voice asked Draco bluntly, interrupting the blond’s dreary musings. 

Draco threw a withering glare in his direction, not deigning to answer his question. Even Harry gave Ron a frown and a look that told the redhead to _shut his bloody mouth_.

“What did you find, Hermione?” Harry asked, trying to steer the conversation back to the present.

The other girl blinked, then gave a blinding smile as she remembered her earlier excitement.

“We found Ravenclaw’s Horcrux!” Hermione beamed, waving what appeared to be a piece of blank parchment in the air. “We talked to Luna and she led us to her common room to find the diadem, where we found the statue of Rowena Ravenclaw wearing the diadem on her head.”

“So, you have it?” Harry asked excitedly.

“Not exactly, no,” Hermione replied with a rueful grin. “It was just a statue, Harry. But I was able to draw what it looked like so that we knew what to look for. We asked McGonagall about the diadem — don’t give me that look, of course I didn’t tell her the details — and she explained that the real diadem has been lost for centuries.”

“Great, then all we have is a drawing of a lost artifact,” Draco drawled from his place on the stool, his mood soured from both his own thoughts and the topic at hand. “It’ll take quite a while to search the whole bloody castle, if not the entire wizarding world for some small tiara.”

Ron threw a slight glare at Draco before turning back to Hermione. He nudged her with a small smile. “Go on, tell him the rest.”

Unfazed by Draco’s outburst, Hermione grinned and took a deep breath to explain further. “So eventually we found our way to the Gray Lady.”

“What?” Harry asked, bemused. “Why her?”

“No one _alive_ has seen the diadem,” Hermione said, grinning. “Which meant we had to find someone who wasn’t alive who’d possibly seen it. Seeing as the Gray Lady is the ghost of Ravenclaw tower, we thought she’d be the most helpful.”

“Merlin, was she!” Ron exclaimed, looking more and more excited as Hermione explained. “Hermione is bloody brilliant, mate.”

“Thank you, Ronald, but I’m not finished,” Hermione said amusedly, a slight flush rising on her cheeks nonetheless. “The Gray Lady knew exactly where the diadem was seeing as how she’d stolen it from Rowena herself. She’d hidden it in a tree in Albania before she was killed by The Baron.”

“The _Baron_? You mean —?”

“The Bloody Baron, yes. But You-Know-Who eventually found it after having talked to the Gray Lady herself, and had it stowed away back in the castle. We don’t exactly know when he’d done that —”

“— the night he’d asked for a job . . .” Harry murmured mostly to himself, recalling the memories he’d seen with Dumbledore.

Hermione gave him a searching look, but nodded shortly and continued. “He must have then, yes. The Gray Lady gave us a riddle to its location —”

“A bloody hard one at that!” remarked Ron with a slight scowl.

“It wasn’t difficult at all, Ronald,” sighed Hermione with a roll of her eyes. “I had to use your map, Harry, to look for it.” She waved the blank parchment in her hand. “But I found it. The lost diadem is in the Room of Requirement.”

Harry grinned widely, ecstatic at Hermione’s sheer brilliance. “Genius!”

Hermione returned the smile, looking delighted herself and the flush in her cheeks grew warmer. “We were just about to head there,” she said, stuffing the parchment in her pocket.

“Let’s go then, the sooner the better,” Harry urged, and led the other two out of the room.

But he paused, looking back to see Draco hunched over and sitting still on his stool. He waved for Ron and Hermione to leave without him, who frowned worriedly as they left, then crossed back towards the blond. “Hey, Draco, we’re going to destroy the horcrux. Aren’t you coming?”

Harry watched in concern as a shiver shook Draco’s frame slightly before the boy gradually rose to his feet. Draco crossed the room, seeming to take slow steps while wearing a troubled expression on his face, like he was concentrating hard on focusing on something.

Harry frowned as he looked at the blond. “Draco, what’s wrong?”

The other boy shook his head. “Nothing, nothing.” Then he straightened and it was like a tension melted out from him as Draco’s eyes met Harry’s determinedly. “I’m fine. Let’s hurry before they get there before us.”

Draco left the room and Harry had no choice but to follow grudgingly. He didn’t like the thought of the blond hiding something from him. Whatever seemed to be bothering Draco looked disturbing. Harry hoped that it wasn’t another memory resurfacing. Then Harry felt guilty for thinking that, because of course he should be happy that Draco was getting the rest of his memories back. Harry just didn’t like the thought of those particular memories hurting Draco in any way. It was enough that the blond had to live those experiences once, but to have to remember them again? The thought of Draco in pain bothered Harry, and he wished he could do more to help the blond.

But that would have to wait, Harry thought as he and Draco soon caught up with Ron and Hermione, who glanced concernedly at the boys as they followed them.

As the four of them walked up the staircase towards the Room of Requirement, a question nagged at Harry’s mind. “Hey Hermione,” he started. “How’d the Gray Lady know to steal the diadem from Rowena?”

Hermione opened her mouth to answer but to everyone’s surprise, Draco beat her to it. “The Gray Lady’s name is Helena. Helena Ravenclaw, Rowena Ravenclaw’s daughter.”

Harry’s jaw dropped as he stared at the side of Draco’s head in awe. “What —? How?”

“Read a book,” Draco drawled, glancing at Harry out of the corner of his eye as his mouth tipped up in a smirk. “You might learn a thing or two.”

Harry scowled good naturedly, ignoring the stifled chuckles coming from in front of them.

“Oh hush,” Harry told his friends. But inwardly, he was grateful for Draco’s comment. Whatever had been bothering the blond earlier seemed to have passed. They didn’t have time right now but hopefully after they’d found the diadem, Harry would find a chance to talk to Draco about it.

They neared the stretch of wall beyond where the Room of Requirement lay hidden, where they paced three times as Harry thought hard, _I need the place where everything is hidden_.

The door materialized just as they finished the third round past the room and they quickly gathered inside.

Mountains of objects hidden by thousands of former students greeted them. It was a familiar sight for Harry and Draco, both for separate reasons. The group passed several towering aisles of junk, including various magical toys, chairs, broomsticks, bottles, a large unused bookcase, and a recognizable Vanishing Cabinet that made Draco halt instantly in his tracks. Harry, Ron, and Hermione continued their search, talking together as they did so and not noticing that the blond was no longer walking with them.

Draco, meanwhile, was frozen as he stared at the Cabinet in horror.

Visions previously believed to have been lost sprang to mind as Draco recalled his sixth year when he tried to carry out his mission for the Dark Lord. Draco saw a memory of himself throwing charm after charm as he struggled to repair the blasted magical cabinet, another one of him breaking down crying in his bedroom in the Slytherin Dormitory, another memory of him cursing the Bell girl to deliver a poisoned necklace, a memory of a bottle of mead, seeing Bell recovered from the Hospital Wing and feeling a wave of tremendous guilt and fear, crying in the girl’s lavatory, seeing Harry’s green eyes ablaze in anger, a duel that ended in his blood being spilt, and then a memory of making a deal with Harry that would ultimately seal his fate.

Draco remembered. He remembered how he met Harry again, how they grew to be friends and eventually lovers. It was all thanks to a moment of weakness being displayed in a girl’s bathroom — a moment that had been a result of failure after failure. Because he was weak. He hadn’t been able to kill Dumbledore himself and had nearly killed two other innocent students due to his failure.

Merlin, how was he supposed to save Harry when he hadn’t even been able to save himself back then? He was a wreck. What had he been thinking? That he would fight alongside the great Harry Potter and win the Wizarding War at his side?

It was a pipedream. He couldn’t do it. He had enough failures and innocent lives at stake than he could possible count. Not to mention the murders he’d committed, the young lives he’d taken without a single shred of remorse. How could he stand at Harry’s side when he was nearly up to the neck in blood?

The answer was easy. He couldn’t. Draco had failed too many times. He was weak.

 _Weak_. _A failure_.

Draco faintly heard a cry of joy in the distance as someone found Ravenclaw’s diadem.

_Even now, you fail to stop Harry Potter as he works to destroy our Dark Lord._

Gray eyes flashed red.

_I warned you, Draco Malfoy, and still you are stubborn._

“N-No.” Draco’s voice came out forced. He struggled to maintain control of his mind but he was losing. Flashes, memories, all of them painful, raced behind his eyes.

Draco suddenly realized that the visions and his discouraging thoughts had all been a distraction, one that had made Draco lose focus on keeping his mental shields from wavering.

Mors saw his chance. If his form had included a face, he’d be grinning with sinful pleasure.

 _Your weakness will be your downfall_.  

Draco’s heart thudded loudly in his chest as he struggled to maintain the walls. But they were flickering in and out of focus. He was losing.

 _You have failed_.

No no no _no!_

He didn’t have a wand, but Draco didn’t need one. Weak as he may be, Draco had inadvertently trained himself to become the ultimate assassin. And Mors used that newfound ability to his advantage.

_Watch as your friends burn._

Red eyes looked on as Mors raised his palms up and cast the incantation that would bring forth the cursed fire. Flames reared around him, and he heard loud cries sound from farther away as the others exclaimed at the sight of the erupting wild fire.

“Harry!” a voice screamed. “Where did this fire come from?”

“ _Aguamenti!_ ” Harry’s voice cried.

A loud yell of dismay quickly followed.

“Nothing’s working!”

“RUN!”

Mors grinned while he watched the chaos of the flames work as they licked at the towers of lost magical objects. It was like a scene out of Hell itself. The fire raged on, reflecting in the blood red pools of his eyes as he gazed at the sentient heat around him. The dancing flames did not dare to consume him, seeing as he had complete control over the wild _Fiendfyre_. It was amusing to watch the three blood traitors attempt to stay alive, however, as they fled from the fiery beasts that threatened to consume them.

Green eyes swiveled wildly, searching, and eventually landed on the blond, who stood still within a circle of flames.

“DRACO!” yelled Harry and rushed over to rescue the blond.

A wall of fire erupted in front of Harry, blocking him from reaching Draco. Harry cried out in frustration, heart hammering in his chest as he feared whether Draco was alive or not.

“Here!” a voice from behind him yelled, and Harry turned to see Ron pointing to a pile of broomsticks haphazardly laying near a tower of junk.

Harry quickly grabbed onto one, mounting it just as Ron climbed onto his while urging Hermione on behind him. They both leapt into the air, dodging the mutating flaming serpents and dragons that clawed after them. The heat and smoke was nearly overwhelming as it climbed over and consumed generations of magical hidden objects.

Swinging his broom around to where he’d last seen Draco, Harry began to panic after he saw no trace of the blond. His face dripped with perspiration and he was sure his hair had been singed in a few places. But Harry flew on, grasping the diadem in one hand and gripping hard onto the broom with his other.

“There!” he heard Hermione’s yell and looked to where she pointed.

Sure enough, there was Draco standing in a wide circle surrounded by fiery creatures that looked ready to consume him.

What the bloody hell was the blond thinking just standing there doing nothing?

“Draco!” he yelled, trying to catch his attention as he raced towards the blond. He dived and dodged numerous flaming lions and birds that bore down upon him, determined to get to Draco in time before the animals devoured him. He flew overhead, glancing around quickly for a weak spot in the fire where he could get to Draco safely. He could barely see the blond through the flames. But he continued to rake his eyes, searching for a limb, that stubborn blond hair of his, anything—

There!

Harry leant into his broom and dived again through the rising cloud of black smoke. He stretched out his arm, felt it catch onto a limb, and _pulled_. It took everything in him not to steer off course and crash, but his grip on Draco’s waist didn’t waver as he miraculously pulled Draco onto the broom behind him.

He felt arms latch onto him from behind, and Harry whooped aloud as he made a sharp turn towards the exit of the room. It was hard for him to breathe, and the smoke stung awful in his eyes, but Harry didn’t falter as he pushed his broom faster, faster. Then he saw a clear patch of wall through the smoke and aimed for it, skirting and diving to avoid the last fatal attempts of the fiery beasts. All the while, the arms around him curled tighter, and then he heard screaming.

“Throw it!”

Harry almost looked backwards in confusion.

“Throw the damn Horcrux!” Draco’s voice yelled from behind him.

Before he could comprehend the blond’s words, Draco yanked the diadem from Harry’s hand and threw it right into the open mouth of a flaming chimaera.

Harry yelled out in dismay, but he was flying too fast to stop the broom and soon they’d cleared the room. He had to make an abrupt turn to avoid colliding into the wall in the corridor beyond but Harry made a graceless landing beside Ron and Hermione, thankful to see they’d made it out.

They’d escaped the Room just in time, too, as they all heard a faint, distant and inhuman scream of agony from inside the room. Harry felt the scream come from inside his head, too, and he clutched hard at his forehead as he felt his scar burn terribly.

Unnoticed by anyone else, Draco had thrown his own head back in a silent scream as pain lanced through his mind. The dark being, Mors, also screeched in agony, and decided to retreat into the comforting darkness where he would regain his strength.

Meanwhile, the black smoke had mutated and thickened into a miasma that enveloped most of the space, including the flames. An intense force quickly followed and blasted through the room, the strength of it so harsh it knocked everyone backwards while simultaneously slamming the doors to the Room firmly shut.  

 


	9. Chapter Nine

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the long hiatus! I've just moved houses recently, so that took up most of my time. But I should be getting back into the routine of things now. Thank you so much to those who've continued to read Draco and Harry's story! Kudos to all my readers!! XxXx

“If no one else is going to ask, then I’ll do it,” Ron’s voice says as he leans heavily against the wall, still panting from exertion. “What the bloody hell just happened?”

Harry glances up from his position on the floor, still reeling from the dull effects of his scar, and notices that Hermione is staring at the door to the Room of Requirement. Her hair is burnt on the ends and there is ash dusting her cheekbones, but the thoughtful glint in her eye both reassures Harry that she is alright and worries him of what she may be thinking.

“Hermione?”

“I’m alright, Harry. Ron?”

“I could do without the burns, yeah.” Ron helps Hermione up and steadies her, all the while looking her over carefully for any major injuries. The redhead’s eyes go soft as he glimpses a bit of ash on the side of Hermione’s nose.

Harry smiles at the sight of his friends, relieved that both Hermione and Ron seem to be mostly uninjured. He turns to Draco, who is still on the floor and staring into space. Harry frowns. “Hey, are you alright?” Harry asks him. He notices the sudden tightness in the blond’s shoulders at his question.

“I’m fine,” comes the curt reply.

Harry’s eyebrows furrow at the blond’s tone.

Before he can say anything else, Ron breaks in. “Hey mate, do you reckon that thing tried to protect itself? With the fire?” Ron eyes the double doors like Hermione is, as if they were expecting the doors to open wide and reveal the Dark Lord himself. “You know, like the other one?”

Harry knew what he is referring to and shakes his head. “I don’t know. It didn’t feel the same way as before. But I can’t be sure.”

“Is it destroyed then? Is it over?”

Harry nods grimly. “Yes. Ravenclaw’s diadem is destroyed. The fire seemed to take care of it.”

“That was no ordinary fire,” Hermione says, her eyes narrowed. “That was cursed fire. _Fiendfyre_. I never would have thought to unleash such unpredictable magic on a horcrux.”

“Well, it bloody worked,” Ron says, seeming pleased despite their harrowing escape. “I still don’t understand how it happened but at least that’s another one down.”

Hermione’s lips twitch at Ron’s reaction. But at the reminder of their list of horcruxes that still needed to be destroyed, she heaves a sigh.

“Yes, which means we need to plan for the next one that is in Malfoy’s vaul —” She breaks off abruptly, eyes flashing apologetically towards Harry.

But it’s too late. Draco’s head snaps up. “What?” He glances between them. “Why would you mention my vaults?”

Harry quickly shook his head. “Not here.” He gestures to the wide-open corridor they were still in. The seventh floor passage didn’t see much movement nowadays but they couldn’t risk anyone overhearing the details of their next plan. He also needed to talk to Draco first. Something about how the blond was acting wasn’t right. Draco was practically shaking. His eyes were bloodshot, probably from the smoke, but the blond’s face was also an unusual pallor. “Let’s take a break for now. Lunch is about to start soon. We can meet and talk about it after.”

Hermione glances between the two boys, her gaze wary as she simply looks at them for a moment. “I wanted to talk to Tonks about a theory I have actually,” Hermione says, and loops an arm around Ron’s. “But we do need to talk today. We’re on a bit of a tight schedule if we want to destroy all of them soon. Let’s meet after dinner instead.”

Her tone brooks no argument from either of them, although Harry didn’t seem inclined to disagree. After one last searching glance, Hermione leaves down the corridor with Ron, who wisely says nothing else as he silently follows her.

Slightly bemused, Harry turns around to face Draco. As he does, he waves his hand silently around them.

Draco’s eyes narrow at Harry’s privacy spell. “What was Granger about to say?” he demands. “If it’s about the Malfoy vaults, I have every right —”

“What happened back there?”

Draco’s breath catches. He blinks.

“What are you talking about?”

“You were just standing there.” Harry runs a hand through his mussed hair, exasperation filling every line of his expression as he breathes in deep. His green eyes are intense and the air around him flickers in warning. “Damn it, Draco. I didn’t know what was happening. One minute you’re right next to me and then. . .” Harry’s voice breaks, and Draco thinks he glimpses a glisten of tears before it is scrubbed from his face. “Then suddenly there was fire and I couldn’t find you. I thought you were about to _die_.”

 _Fuck_ , Draco thinks as he tries not to squirm.

“I was right next to you —”

“Stop lying to me.” Harry’s voice is sharp and commanding but Draco can see through it. He hears the hurt and distrust radiating through his words. He sees the pain in Harry’s eyes.

_Fuck, fuck, fuck._

It’s on the tip of Draco’s tongue to just tell Harry everything. Draco wants him to know, wants to confide in someone about the horrible, dark parasite that shares his body and won’t leave him alone. He hates feeling this way and if he just gives in, if he just told Harry the truth. . .

“We got separated,” Draco says in a low voice.

Disappointment floods heartbreaking green eyes just before Harry turns his head from him.

Never before has Draco wanted to curse himself fiercely than at that moment.

It burns at Draco how much he wants to scream out an apology, to beg for Harry’s forgiveness; Draco settles on meeting that dull stare with his own. Draco has to stay strong, for both of them. It was his turn to do the protecting, even if Harry would never find out.

“Figured that, yeah,” Harry finally manages in a sullen tone. Harry’s shoulders are slumped, as if defeated; Draco yearns to look away. “Merlin, Draco.”

Draco’s heart does not crack at the waver in the other boy’s voice. His insides feel cold and Draco hates that he’s losing his grip on the situation.

“Draco, I’m not a bleeding idiot, contrary to what you may think about me. The horcrux didn’t defend itself with that blasted fire. It was conjured. There was no one else in that room except the four of us.”

“What do you want me to say?” Draco finally snaps back, standing up as he focuses on the boy in front of him.

 “I want you to talk to me.” Despite the calmness in Harry’s tone, Draco has to take a hasty step back away from the crackle of energy that sparks out in warning at him.

Draco’s fists clench. “I’m trying, you berk.”

“Yeah?” Harry’s dark eyes narrow. “Because it seems like I’ve done all the real talking here. You can’t even answer a simple question.”

“I told you —”

“We got separated. Right.”

“I don’t know what kind of answer you’re expecting to hear,” Draco says in a forced leveled tone. “I’m sorry to disappoint but that’s the truth. We went into that room, and then I. . . I saw the cabinet and. . .” He takes a breath. “I froze, alright? Memories of last year, failing my mission, started to come back and I. . . I —”

It was all coming back to him now. The reason why he’d let his guard down, his broken defenses that had let Mors slip through and take control, the weakness within him that would always be a hinderance.  Draco had set the fire loose and almost killed them all. He’d almost let the Dark Lord win, and over a stupid memory of a damned mission that he’d failed to complete. He’d almost killed Harry. Again.

“Draco?” There is a wary gentleness to Harry’s voice suddenly and Draco starts. “Was that it? More memories of sixth year came back?” Harry’s voice asks and it’s less harsh this time, more sympathizing. “I get that. A lot has happened since then. Bad memories can be upsetting.”

Draco almost feels whiplash at the sudden change in mood. Trust Harry to focus on the emotional aspect of a death defying experience. Merlin, his boyfriend was such a Hufflepuff. “Yeah.”

“Why didn’t you just tell me? Is your pride really more important than your life?” Harry asks, and then arms are wrapped around Draco’s waist as Harry pulls the blond closer. Draco goes with him, feeling disassociated from everything all of a sudden. Because _fuck_ , Harry thought Draco had frozen in the literal heat of battle from _fear_ and Draco couldn’t even convince him of otherwise.   

“I didn’t want to seem weak,” Draco says lamely, letting the words spill out.

Harry sighs into his neck. “You’re not weak, Draco. You’re the strongest person I know.”

Draco wisely says nothing.

“Er, but I suppose that explains why you hadn’t moved from the fire earlier. Frozen with fear?”

Draco forces a chuckle. “More like Slytherin self-preservation. I wasn’t about to risk my life trying to grab onto your sweaty hand, Potter.”

His jest is rewarded with warm eyes and a soft smile. “Poncy git.”

“Insufferable Gryffindor.”

Harry chuckles, then goes quiet for a moment. His hands around Draco’s waist don’t budge; in fact, they tighten around him. “Draco.”

Draco shivers at the sudden seriousness in Harry’s voice. “Yes?”

“I thought I’d lost you,” the other boy breathes, and his face burrows deeper into the crook of Draco’s shoulder as he leans his weight into the blond.

Draco holds him, content enough to accept the Gryffindor’s sudden need to hug him right now. The feeling of near loss and fear was mutual; if Draco had the ability to shed years of tutelage, and if he gave in to any Hufflepuff tendencies he may have had — Merlin forbid — he’d probably be bawling on Harry’s shoulder himself.

“I’m here. I’m yours,” is all Draco could say. What else could he do? But his words seemed to have an effect on Harry, who nods weakly in response and soon pulls himself away.

Then there is nothing but soulful green eyes hidden behind those notorious specs and Draco finds himself frozen with another kind of magic. One that only Harry has over him.

“I can’t lose you.”

Harry’s rough voice washes over him like a scorching wave and Draco’s breath nearly leaves his lungs completely.

“True. Who would save you then?”

Harry’s lip twitch. “Right. Because I’m the one who needs the constant rescuing.”

“Don’t be ridiculous, of course you do.” Despite Draco’s snark, he can’t help but run his fingers against the back of Harry’s neck and curl them into the wild hair of his. “You’re a Gryffindor. It goes without saying that you’ll need me eventually.”

“Hmm,” Harry’s eyes go dark, and his head tilts back a bit into the comforting sensation of Draco’s hands in his hair. “And what if I need you now?”

Draco’s eyes narrow at the sudden huskiness in Harry’s voice. “Need saving, do you?”

Harry smirks, and dips low to plant a soft kiss on the side of Draco’s neck. “My sanity might soon, unless you plan to do something about it.” The words are whispered against his earlobe before blunt teeth catch the soft skin.

The blond’s breath hitches and Harry’s mouth twists into a satisfied little smirk. “Well,” and Harry’s heart soars at the depth of emotion in that one word, “who am I to deny helping out the Chosen One?”

Harry growls darkly and nips at the skin of Draco’s jaw, relishing in the squeak the blond emits. “Exactly.” And without waiting another moment, Harry hauls Draco closer and kisses him with everything he has.

Destroying the Horcrux, fighting against the _Fiendfyre_ , almost losing Draco; all the adrenaline from the past hour comes rushing back and Harry just has to have Draco. Right now. Because Draco is his, and he is Draco’s. And it seems that now they’re back together, they can’t go a few hours without having each other again. Not that Harry minds at all.

“Need you,” Harry rasps out, and clutches hard onto Draco’s waist as he slides his thigh between Draco’s legs.

Draco’s head falls back, slipping against the wall behind him and fuck, when did Harry push him against the wall of the corridor? They were still across the currently burning Room of Requirement, for Merlin’s sake.

“Harry,” Draco tries to tell him. “Harry, wait.”

But then Harry licks at his bottom lip, questing, searching, and then opening as he slips his tongue alongside Draco’s. Draco’s eyes roll back into his head, and he forgets everything that doesn’t have to do with running his hands all over Harry.

Their kiss deepens, becoming hot and slick as their bodies move against one another in the wide-open corridor. Draco thinks he can hear his moans echoing through the space but then Harry’s hands threading through his hair brings him back to the urgent matter of the inner burning fire running from his chest all the way down between his legs. Draco’s heart is thundering so loudly and Harry’s hands are everywhere — sliding down the length of his bare back, cupping his arse, drawing him forward and grinding his cock against Harry’s thick and hard length.

Draco’s cock throbs with the overwhelming weight of Harry against him, and he kisses the other boy harder, more forcefully because Merlin, he needs Harry right now. He needs Harry inside him. He wants the other boy naked and fucking him.

“Draco, Draco,” Harry’s voice moans as he thrusts hard against Draco’s leg.

And then Harry’s pulling Draco’s trousers slightly down so that he can grab a handful of bare arse, sliding one finger in between and searching, feeling for Draco’s hole.

“Yes, _yes_ ,” Draco sighs, breathless, and widens his thighs for easier access.

“Fuck,” comes a growl, and then Draco’s shoulders lift away from the wall as Harry’s fingers slide inside him.

“Yes!”

Draco’s doesn’t want to think about where they are, or the fact that they’re in such an open space where anyone could walk by right now, because the mere fact that they’re doing this, that Harry is — that they’re about to —

“ _Fuck!_ ” Draco loudly exclaims as his trousers and robes are suddenly vanished, along with Harry’s trousers, and bare skin rubs sinuously against warm bare skin. Draco makes the mistake of glancing down at the sight of their dripping lengths thrusting together and nearly comes at the sight. He whimpers, feeling his knees go weak instead. “Oh Merlin, oh fuck.”

Harry catches him as he nearly falls, pressing two fingers inside him now while his other hand fondles Draco further below, tugging at him. Draco can’t help it and feels a slight whimper escape him. Harry makes a pleased sound in return. He rolls and cups Draco in his palm, and the roughness of Harry’s hand against his sensitive skin has Draco bucking further and further against Harry’s length.

Then Harry lets go suddenly and wraps his hand around Draco’s knee, pulling it around his hip until Draco’s leg is wrapped around his waist. The position lets Harry’s fingers slide deeper inside of him, and Draco breathes harshly at the sensation.

“Fuck, Harry,” Draco groans, turning his head to the side to get much needed air. “ _Fuck_.”

“That’s the idea,” Harry says, his deep voice sounding amused and downright sexy as hell. And then another finger, this time aided with lube — and fuck does wandless and nonverbal magic for the explicit use of having sex with him turn Draco hot as hell — slides deep inside of him. Harry’s fingertips rub his inner walls with intense strokes that make Draco writhe and tighten his leg around Harry’s waist. It makes him want to scream.

“Anytime soon, Potter?” Draco hisses with near impatience. But then the blond’s heart goes soft, aching with warmth at the sound of Harry’s light responding laughter, just before the other boy obediently pumps deeper inside of him, scissoring Draco open with faster strokes. Harry dips his head to mouth and lick at Draco’s neck, and Draco finds that Harry’s lips are a good means of distraction from the burning and stretching of his skin as his hole tightens and softens. Draco relaxes into it, bearing down against Harry’s fingers, unable to help himself from riding them in his impatience.

Harry’s length twitches as he watches Draco moving against him, and Merlin if it wasn’t the sexiest thing he’d ever seen in his life. With rosy cheeks, mussed and sweaty blond strands sticking to the sides of his face and jaw, riding Harry’s fingers like he couldn’t get enough of the thought of Harry fucking him, Draco was the most beautiful creature imaginable. 

“I love you,” Harry finds himself saying.

And then Harry realizes that he was wrong. The most beautiful sight was Draco opening his melted gray eyes, heavily lidded as he gazes softly at Harry, and smiling at him with that sexy smirk of his. Draco’s walls were completely down and open. He was naked in every way, baring everything. And it was all for Harry.

“You, too, you great pillock,” Draco replies back just as tenderly, and then pulls Harry into a kiss that takes the remaining breath of his away.

Harry can’t wait any longer.

Growling deeply, Harry grabs Draco by the globes of his arse cheeks, forcing him upwards until both of his legs are wrapped around Harry’s hips, and then presses him closer against the wide expanse of wall as he thrusts inside of him.

Draco’s eyes fly open as Harry’s length opens and stretches him wide, and he struggles on how to remember to grab onto Harry’s shoulders without digging his nails into the skin. His legs tighten around Harry’s hips, and he hangs on for dear life as Harry doesn’t even wait for him to adjust before he’s fucking the blond boy thoroughly and deeply against the wall.

“Merlin, Potter, yes!” Draco nearly screams as Harry thrusts his cock in and out of Draco with a fierceness that makes Draco’s hole burn from the intensity. But the angle is perfect and Harry continuously brushes against several overwhelmed nerves as Draco loses himself in the pleasure that is Harry’s hands, lips, and cock.

Their loud moans echo through the corridor as both boys lose themselves in each other, kissing, licking, and biting each other as they fuck each other rapidly.

Harry’s hot panting breath against his face begins to match the pace of his hips as he thrusts inside and against Draco. The blond nearly whimpers at the idea of his neglected cock. But soon the friction between his dripping length pressed hard against Harry’s stomach is enough to have him moaning out his pleasure.

And even though it’s sweaty and uncouth — _fuck_ , they were really fucking each other out in the open and against a wall, like Draco was some kind of wanton harlot ready to spread his legs out at any moment — it was the most glorious thing Draco had ever done. Harry’s cock was plunging deep inside him, Harry’s mouth was biting at his neck, Harry’s hands were grabbing at his skin and digging fiercely into his hair. Fuck the Dark Lord and the wizarding world; life was wonderful when the Savior of the wizarding world chose a random wall to fuck you against. Best of all, they couldn’t care less about anything other than losing themselves in each other.  

As their harsh love making reached a rapidly bruising pace, Draco cut off a loud moan of his with a hard kiss against Harry’s lips, whose hips continued to rock wildly with abandon. Harry fucks his arse thoroughly, fucks deep into his mouth with his tongue, and Draco relishes every single second of it as his own hips continue to pump wildly.

The friction escalates, and Draco barely has a second to reach down and pull once at his cock before his hole is tightening and a rush of come spurts hard from him. Draco releases a heart wrenching cry at his release. He soon feels Harry grow swollen inside him and his own burst of fullness fills Draco as he releases hard inside of the blond boy. Harry’s cry of ecstasy is _heavenly_ before he buries his face into the bend of Draco’s shoulder and sucks and licks at the skin while his length twitches inside Draco’s swollen channel, his hands holding tight to Draco’s arse cheeks as they ride the last waves of their high together.

Then Draco feels faint, and he must have blacked out for a few moments because when he next opens his eyes, they’re both on the ground with Draco still straddling Harry’s waist as the Gryffindor slumps gracelessly against the wall and floor. His hands continue to run across the skin of Draco’s back, more to protect the blond from the chill of the corridors than to elicit any more amorous sensations.

“Wow,” was all Harry could say in the sudden quietness. Now that their moans and the sounds of their fierce loving making were finished, the hall was almost eerie in its silence.

Draco wanted to curse at their foolishness in going at each other out in the open, but then he tenses and his sore hole aches so wonderfully that he just can’t care any longer. He could do without the crude sensation of certain contents leaking out of him, however.

He must have made a sound, because then Harry’s hand is cupping his bottom tenderly a moment before two gentle fingers are filling him again.

“Wha—?” Draco gasps, his already overwhelmed hole protesting and welcoming the intrusion. He looks up to throw a glare at the voracious Gryffindor in front of him but Draco’s words are cut off at the wonderous expression the other boy is wearing.

“Fuck, you’re so wet,” Harry utters, his gaze transfixed on Draco as he slips gently through Draco’s very stretched and wet hole.

Draco whimpers, feeling near disbelief at what was happening right now. Fuck, they couldn’t go again, could they? But a twitch in Draco’s length told him it was highly probable. It seemed he was as insatiable as Harry was.

“We have until dinner,” Harry says, and his warm stare burns deeply into Draco. The blond gulps hard at the sensation, at the swirl of energy between them that hadn’t dissipated even after their release.

“Until dinner?” Draco replies back dumbly. But honestly, Harry’s fingers inside him is very distracting. Bolts of electricity were sparking through his already overused nerves in waves. He should stop Harry, it was the decent thing to do, but fuck it all if he didn’t care about anything other than being with Harry as many times as he could.

“Hermione doesn’t need to talk to us until dinner, so I think we should use our time together wisely. To catch up after all this time.”

“Catch up?”

Harry’s eyes sparked with amusement at Draco’s near incoherency. “Yes. I need you again, Draco. I need to have you. Because within the next twenty-four hours, we’re going to attempt a wild break in at a heavily guarded bank with a worrying amount of surveillance, and I can’t risk losing you again.”

“Not losing me,” Draco gasps, barely paying any attention as Harry has now begun to whisper his intentions across the back of Draco’s ear. A lick and a nip had the blond writhing in Harry’s lap, and the Gryffindor couldn’t be more pleased.

“No, never losing you. Not again. Because I need you next to me, Draco. I need to remind you of how much I can’t lose you again. Your place is at my side, as mine is at yours.”

“Yes, yours. Only yours,” Draco agrees, throwing his head back as teeth latch tenderly onto the skin of his neck.

“Mine. Yes, mine. You’re it for me, Draco,” Harry breathes, kissing and licking into Draco’s mouth. “Even if you don’t ever realize how fucking scared I was in the Room, I won’t let any harm come to you because I can’t lose you. I can’t lose anyone else, especially you.”

“I’m here, Harry,” Draco tries to say, to try and comfort the other boy. “I’m here. Just take me, Harry. I’m yours, all yours.”

“Yes,” Harry says deeply, almost growls.

Then they’re spinning in darkness, and Draco has no clue what is happening except that they’re moving rapidly and then after what feels like a harsh squeeze in his stomach, they’re suddenly in Harry’s room atop his bed.

“ _Fuck_.” The word escapes Draco harshly because what the bloody hell, did Harry just wildly apparate them _inside_ Hogwarts? And fuck does it even matter because now Harry is stretching him open with his cock, and Merlin is he the most powerful wizard alive, and now he’s driving Draco wild with his thick and rapid length — and brash _Gryffindorness_ breaking through Hogwarts _defenses_ just so they could fuck — and then Draco can’t think anything beyond _fuck, Harry_ , and _yes, more, faster, harder_.

 

* * *

 

By the time they’ve made it to dinner, they’d managed to slip in a few hours of rest after a few more rounds of intense love making. Sore and nearly limping, Draco made his way with Harry to the meeting spot where Hermione and Ron would be waiting. Casting a side glance at Harry’s chipper and healthy glow, Draco felt almost envious that he didn’t seem to be in as much pain as Draco was. They’d switched once with Draco on top, but they both seemed to enjoy their usual way of coupling a bit more. Draco’s arse was surely feeling the plenty of rounds they’d done now, though.

As they enter the room, they see Hermione and Ron sitting at a table with a plate of food nearby. Draco’s mouth almost waters at the sight, and he realizes he must have overexerted his energy quite a bit if he’s been reduced to salivating.

Harry grabs an apple from the plate and tosses another towards Draco, who politely devours it out of view.

“So, what’s the plan?” Harry asks while both boys eat their fill. He notices that Ron pointedly looks away from their flushed cheeks and Harry’s messier than usual hair. Harry tries to ignore the rising flush in his cheeks.  

“Infiltrate Malfoy’s trust vault, steal the horcrux, save the day,” Ron states brusquely. “Simple enough.”

“I have a question,” Draco says abruptly. “What is in my trust vault that you lot seem so fixated on stealing?”

Hermione answered him. “It’s another horcrux. Helga Hufflepuff’s Cup, we believe.”

“It used to be in your Aunt’s vault,” Harry tries to explain. “But we think Vol — You-Know-Who moved it to yours for some reason to keep it safer.”

“Yeah, funny that,” Ron says, looking directly at Draco. “It’s like he knew we were about to steal it.”

Draco’s somewhat relaxed posture instantly tenses. He shoots cool eyes in Weasley’s direction. “Really? How did you come to that conclusion?”

“It doesn’t matter,” Harry interrupts, throwing a glare in Ron’s direction. But Ron ignores him, crossing his arms and glaring defiantly back at the blond Slytherin.

“We think you let it slip of our plan. You-Know-Who somehow found out about us destroying his precious souls, and we could’ve taken it ages ago if it hadn’t been moved in the first place.”

“You think I betrayed Harry and volunteered highly classified information to the Dark Lord?” Draco snarls, barely keeping his emotions in check. “You think I’d do that to Harry?”

“Not voluntarily, no,” Hermione broke in. “But, maybe —”

“No, we don’t,” Harry snaps, glaring at both of his friends now. “I know you wouldn’t do that, Draco.”

That helped calm Draco a bit, Harry’s utter faith in him. It was damning at the same time, and wouldn’t bode well if Mors resurfaced again, but Draco was shamefully glad for Harry’s reassurance. His shoulders loosened a bit, and the glare he threw at Weasley wasn’t as cutting as before.

“Well, I didn’t, for your information. I was too busy being tortured into near insanity,” — and killing muggles and mudbloods — “to have private chat sessions with the Dark Lord about your lot’s plans.”

“You’d think he’d use the opportunity,” Ron scathingly replies.

“He did,” Draco sneers. “But my loyalty to Harry is stronger than him. He knows nothing of your plan. At least, not from me.”

With that, Draco spins towards the farthest corner of the room where he’d be least likely tempted to blast Weasley into oblivion. Harry looked as if he wanted to follow him, but Draco was grateful he stayed put to discuss their plan to attack Gringotts. Draco needed a few minutes alone, anyway.

Harry was always intense, even outside of their lovemaking sessions. He was like a tangled ball of light and energy that radiated heat, and sometimes it was too much for Draco and he just needed a moment to _breathe_.

Draco adored Harry. He truly did. The Gryffindor’s faith in his loyalty warmed Draco to no end.

But it was also greatly concerning; because what if it was misplaced? What had happened in the Room had been a disaster. Draco had nearly killed Harry and his friends, and no amount of loyalty could stop Mors when the dark being was just too powerful.

Draco was dangerous, he knew that. If he had any sense of self-preservation, which of course he did, he’d refuse to go on another dangerous horcrux hunting mission. He was too much of a liability, and if Harry and the other duo knew the truth, they wouldn’t let Draco tag along either. Who knew when Mors would strike? It could be worse this time. If Draco was smart, he’d demand to stay behind and let the foolish trio flail off on their own to their adventure to destroy the cup.

But Draco had been turned into a sap. If Harry was going, so was he. He refused to leave Harry’s side. Not now that they were together.

“Hey.”

Draco turns slightly to see Harry walk up behind him. Just the sight of Harry’s soothing expression is enough to calm his racing heart, and Draco nearly curses himself to all sorts of hells for having fallen for those dangerous green eyes.

“Done scheming already?” Draco asks, and before he can stop himself, he grabs onto Harry’s hand and entwines their fingers together.

Harry raises a brow at Draco’s not-so-casual display of emotion but says nothing. His eyes turn soft. “Yeah. We decided that since He doesn’t know of you finding us yet, you and Hermione will walk into Gringotts to access your Vault. Hermione has a stash of Polyjuice potion, so she’ll be dressed as your Aunt Bellatrix. Ron will dress as a foreign sympathizer, and I’ll be under the cloak. It’s risky, but it’s the best plan we’ve got.”

“Counting on the fact that the entire wizarding world still believes I’m some dark assassin,” Draco sighs darkly.

“Exactly,” Harry says, and his hand tightens around Draco’s.

“It is very risky.”

“What plan isn’t?”

“Who knows if it’ll work?”

“It will. It has to. We have no other choice.”

Draco rolls his eyes at the other boy’s theatrics, but says nothing else. He can’t. Otherwise he’ll break down from sheer nerves.  

“Are you alright with this?” Harry asks him, one finger rubbing comfortingly against Draco’s palm.

It takes a moment until Draco feels ready to answer.

“I’m not sure I’ll ever be alright with the idea of you running full head into danger, but we didn’t get burned too badly last time.” Harry makes a face at his lame attempt at humor. “At least I’ll be with you.”

“I’ll never leave your side. I’ll be right beside you the entire time.”

That’s what I’m afraid of, Draco wanted to say. But he gave Harry a soft grin instead and nodded.

“When will it be?”

“First thing tomorrow morning,” Harry says lightly, and steps closer until he’s nearly leaning against Draco. “It’ll give Hermione time to transfigure some clothing together and practice walking in heels.”

Draco’s lips twitch at the image Harry’s words conjure up. But he relaxes slightly now that he knows he’ll at least have another night with Harry before all hell possibly breaks loose.

“That’ll be a right sight,” he chuckles lowly. Harry chuckles along with him.

“We’ll be alright,” Harry assures him after they’ve settled into quiet. “I won’t let any harm come to you, remember?”

Draco nods, and lets himself pretend for a moment that everything will work itself out and be alright. It had to. If luck or fate really existed, Draco prayed with everything that he had that tomorrow would go as planned.

 

* * *

 

Draco didn’t know whether to be relieved or concerned with the lack of surveillance within Gringotts, but at least everything was going to plan. Of course, Draco was the only one in his real skin out of everyone, and they were attempting to gain access to his own trust vault. Still. No alarms or warnings had sounded yet, despite them having one person in their group polyjuiced, another impersonating a foreigner named Dragomir Despard that was sympathetic to the Dark Lord’s cause, and a foolhardy Chosen One under an invisibility cloak. Merlin knew what would happen if they had been real criminals with harmful intentions.

Their walk into the bank had been largely uneventful. There had been one moment when Travers, a tall, thin Death Eater had accosted Draco to greet him — or rather, Mors — and ask about his whereabouts around Gringotts.

“Checking on the Dark Lord’s most trusted valuables, of course,” Draco had answered in a deep, scathing tone. “You know how our Master deplores the necessity of consorting with long-fingered creatures.”

“Oh yes, yes, of course,” Travers had agreed instantly, clearly sympathizing. “And Madam Lestrange, as well? I’m surprised to see you out and about —”

“I am escorting the Madam because it pleases our Master,” Draco had interrupted, and had turned the full glare of his red eyes towards the Death Eater (which Hermione had spelled just hours before; it eerily reminded Harry of the enigma that surrounded Draco’s connection with Mors). “You wouldn’t want us to explain to the Dark Lord of why we are keeping his errand on hold to speak with the likes of you, Travers.”

“Well,” the Death Eater coughed. “Of course, I wouldn’t dare think of such a thing, but I had _heard_ that the inhabitants of Malfoy Manor were confined —”

Hermione began to laugh contemptuously at Travers. “The Dark Lord forgives those who’ve served him most faithfully in the past. Perhaps your credit is not as good with him as mine is.”

And it had been such a perfect imitation of Bellatrix and Mors that Harry had truly shuddered in fear for a moment.

They’d eventually managed to shake off the Death Eater thanks to Draco’s commendable acting, before smoothly entering Gringotts and speaking to the goblins about entering Draco’s vault.

After identifying Draco with his key, the old goblin behind the counter clapped his hands once and a younger goblin approached from the side.

“We have instructions,” he said, with a bow towards Draco and Hermione. “Special orders regarding your vault, Mr. Malfoy. Your guests are welcome to travel with you, but they must not enter the vault. There will also be the usual blood sacrifice at the entrance. Please follow me.”

The goblin led them through a corridor with a wide door that led into a rough stone passageway beyond. The four of them followed closely, waiting patiently as the little goblin whistled to summon a small sized cart that came rattling along the tracks toward them. They all climbed in — with Harry having to sit awkwardly against Draco’s side since it would be suspicious to leave an empty space for the goblin to see — just before the cart jerked to a start and hurtled down the track, gaining speed as it twisted along its journey into the deeper depths of Gringotts Bank.

Draco was familiar with the route they were traveling, having visited his trust vault so many times. But this visit was different, clearly, and the wind rushing through his hair and seeing the stalactites and stalagmites almost made him feel melancholy as he recalled the good old days, when Harry had just been his childhood nemesis and his parents hadn’t yet delivered him to the Dark Lord on a silver platter to be tortured and possessed.

When the cart finally stopped at last beside a large ornate door in the passage wall, they all climbed out with the goblin leading them in front. He held out his hand for the key, which Draco handed to him. The goblin then beckoned Draco forward and, without too much flourish, made a small slit against the blond’s palm with a goblin-made dagger.

“Together,” the goblin said. Draco nodded, and waited until the goblin had the key in place before pressing his bleeding palm against the door while the goblin simultaneously turned the key. A loud bolt unlocking sounded just before the door cracked open. “Only him,” the goblin warned to the others, glaring at them.

Ron and Hermione stared at Draco anxiously, while Harry took this as his cue and hurried underneath his cloak to follow alongside Draco into his vault.

“Leave us for a moment,” Draco ordered the goblin, who glared at the blond but did as he was told, albeit grudgingly. He closed the door to the vault, leaving Hermione and Ron wide-eyed on the other side while Harry and Draco began their search for the horcrux.

 


	10. Chapter Ten

“ _Lumos!_ ”

A beam of light drifted from Harry’s hand towards the center of the room, its soft glow falling upon the glittering heirlooms and jewels.

“What does it look like?” Draco asked Harry while he scanned the room carefully. The vault was filled to the brim with priceless treasures and towers of gold; half of the items were unfamiliar to Draco and he made a mental note to compose an inventory of his vault if he were to survive the war.

“A cup,” Harry answered from beside him, glancing over the room. “A golden cup with a badger engraved on it —”

Draco snorted.

“—with two handles.”

“How are we going to destroy this one?” Draco asked, bending down to scrutinize an emerald brooch that had caught his eye. “I’d rather we not cast _Fiendfyre_ inside this vault.”

“ _Accio Cup!_ ” Harry cried, figuring it wouldn’t hurt to cast the spell. Predictably it did nothing. Harry let out a frustrated sigh before turning back to the blond. “Maybe the sword of Gryffindor can help us destroy it.”

Draco frowned. “But didn’t you leave it. . .?”

“At the Manor? Yeah,” Harry replied, a dark expression marring his features at the memory. “But the sword is supposed to present itself to any Gryffindor in need of it.”

Draco could see the flaws in his statement, but he nodded encouragingly to Harry as they continued their search.

A deep buzzing sound in Draco’s ear suddenly distracted him. It felt familiar, like something was calling to him.   

“It’s close by,” he vaguely heard Harry say from behind him, and Draco knew it to be true. He could feel it. The cup, or whatever it was, seemed to _want_ to be found.

Draco moved further into the vault where the buzzing seemed to be sounding the loudest, with Harry moving close behind him. Together, they approached a low wooden table with a delicate glass case sitting atop it. The glass case was inscribed with runes familiar to Draco, and the warning he read made Draco frown deeply. Then he noticed what lay inside the case. It was a satin, black, beaded bag with green edging. The aura surrounding the case and the bag practically pulsed, oozing thickly with dark magic.  

And the buzzing was nearly deafening now. Its piercing noise rang loudly in Draco’s ears.

“Is that it?” Harry asked, staring at the black bag but making no move towards it. Draco was glad for Harry’s good sense and wariness.

“Yes. But it seems to have some protection this time,” Draco said, frowning. “Those runes demand a sacrifice.”

“A sacrifice?” Harry repeated, thinking back to when he and Dumbledore had entered the cave last year to retrieve the locket horcrux. “Yeah, that sounds about right. Last time, Dumbledore had cut his hand and spilled blood on the wall to find the entrance.”

Draco’s frown deepened. “Dumbledore cut his hand?”

“He didn’t want to waste my blood,” said Harry slowly. “It was worth more, or something.”

“It is,” Draco agreed, throwing a glance towards the other boy. “When one sacrifices a piece of ourselves, we are weakened. Not only physically but in essence, as well.”

Harry looked sternly at Draco. “Well, if we have to pay with our blood —”

“I’m doing it.”

“What, no!” Harry yelled, glaring fiercely at Draco. “You are not sacrificing —”

“Why not?” Draco rounded on him, but inwardly he was grimacing at his own impulsive foolhardiness. Draco blamed the new company he was keeping these days. “These runes are dark magic, Harry. Which means I don’t know what will happen when we unlock this case.”

“How do we know anything will happen at all?” Harry asked, scowling. But he already knew the answer to that, despite his stubbornness.

“The last two times you’ve destroyed a horcrux, Harry, something was unleashed,” Draco pointed out in exasperation. “I don’t want to take any risks.”

“No,” Harry said sternly.

“The Dark Lord cannot have a sacrifice from you. He could do plenty with it, Harry. Things I’d rather not think about.”

“But you can’t. This is my fight, Draco.”

Draco’s eyes narrowed at Harry’s words. “ _Your_ fight? This is everyone’s fight!”

“You don’t understand,” Harry said quietly, shaking his head.

“Oh, I understand plenty, Chosen One. I don’t care about whatever prophecy Dumbledore was holding over your head —”

“It’s not about that!” Harry cried, glaring at the blond. “I am tired of people dying and getting hurt.”

“Everyone is going to die sometime,” Draco threw back, feeling his nerves shake with trepidation. He felt so on edge, and their arguing was only prolonging the inevitable. The horcrux was right _there_ , still buzzing. “No matter what, you can’t prevent people from getting hurt in this war. You can’t save everyone.” _Like me_ , Draco nearly said. “Now stop wasting our time and just let me —”

“I can’t lose you again!”

Draco’s blood froze as he looked back to see the despair in those dark eyes of Harry’s. The other boy was pale and shaking, even his hair looked wilder than before, and his breath was coming out uneven.

Harry looked afraid. Afraid for Draco, of losing him.

Draco felt his heart clench and his ire abruptly cooled. “I know, Harry,” he said softly, and Draco yearned to comfort him. Instead, Draco forced himself to give a rueful grin toward the other boy. “But I made a promise to Dumbledore. ‘If in the event that you must sacrifice yourself to save him’. . .”

Harry shook his head. “The oath died with him, Draco.”

“But not with me,” Draco said stubbornly. “It’s time you got over your pride and let someone else do the saving.” He paired his words with a self-deprecating smirk to lessen the edge in his voice.

He got another shake of unruly black hair in return as Harry let out a heavy sigh at Draco’s bravado act.

And that’s all it was, really. An act. Inside, Draco was shaking with nerves.

Because what Draco didn’t want to tell Harry was that the runes did not call for blood in payment, but for a magical sacrifice. The runes didn’t bother to explain how much magic was needed, and that was the point. Draco could either lose only a portion of his magic, or all of it. He didn’t know.

Draco wasn’t about to let Harry sacrifice his magic to destroy this horcrux. In the game of war where Harry was a key component to winning, that was practically suicide.

“You’re going to be the death of me,” Harry sighed, letting out a humorless laugh. But his face was resigned as he looked at Draco.

Curling his lips into a cool smirk — and steeling his nerves — Draco turned to face the glass case. Unlike with blood sacrifices, a magical payment needed no sharp object. Ignoring Harry’s look of confusion, Draco laid his hand over the runes on the case and concentrated. Draco knew exactly where his magical core was, so he reached deep into the location of his core and _pulled_. Then he envisioned the link between his core and the glass case where his hand lay, and let his magic flow freely to satisfy the sacrificial requirements set by the Dark Lord.

Instantly, a shimmering red light appeared from underneath his hand and at the same moment, Draco felt a blow hit his entire body. Abruptly, he felt weak and lost. It was like something deep within his very soul had been suddenly drained from him.

His _magic_.

It wasn’t all gone, but nearly so. Draco could feel the effects right away and he staggered backwards into Harry.

“Draco?” Harry said, alarmed as he caught Draco’s limp body against his.   

But the blonde couldn’t speak even if he tried. He felt so _empty_. So drained. And he felt so, so tired. The blood in his veins seemed to move sluggishly, his head felt heavy on his shoulders, and it took everything in him to not pass out in Harry’s grasp.

“Draco, what’s happening? What did you do?” he vaguely heard Harry’s panicked voice above him. But Draco’s eyes were transfixed on the glass case, which was wide open now. It lay there innocently, baring the bag in which Draco hoped contained the horcrux.

“H-Harr. . . y . . .” Draco murmured brokenly, his finger barely able to motion towards the glass case.

But Harry seemed to understand his difficulty, and cursed to himself as he hurried over towards the horcrux. Harry grabbed the bag, warily checking to see if there were any other dark surprises that lay in wait for them. Luckily nothing happened when he reached inside. Relieved, Harry hurried back to where Draco half-lay on the ground and knelt beside him. Harry opened the bag to glance inside and his heart began to race as he glimpsed the golden shimmer of Hufflepuff’s cup.

“It’s here,” Harry whispered, shooting an excited glance towards Draco. “We got it.”

Draco managed to give him a small grin, but it taxed him and it showed. The blond struggled to sit up straight until Harry’s arm wrapped around him and helped Draco to his feet.

“What’s wrong with you?” Harry asked, his heart thudding at how hard Draco was trembling. The blond’s face was several shades paler than usual and a sheen of sweat was breaking out across his skin.

“M-My m-magic,” Draco forced out, closing his eyes as he grimaced in pain.

“What’s wrong with it?” Harry questioned him. Then he thought for a moment. “Wait, did you _sacrifice_ your _magic_?”

Draco nodded with a weak groan. “J-just a bit of it.”

“Merlin, Draco! Are you insane? I knew this was a bloody horrible idea!” Harry cried angrily, gripping harder onto Draco’s waist as he half-carried him through the room.

“I c-can still use my w-wand,” said Draco, half leaning onto Harry. His strength had weakened tremendously, and it began to scare Draco. “B-but we n-need to leave.” They needed to leave, now. Something was happening. The buzzing from the horcrux hadn’t stopped; in fact, it was getting louder.

Harry could sense something was off, too, and he hurried to half-carry Draco towards the door.

“H-Harry?” Draco whispered as Harry pulled the door to the vault open. “Wait. . .”

Harry didn’t hear him as he looked past the exposed space to see Hermione and Ron’s anxious expressions, along with the indifferent Gringotts goblin standing with them. His friends’ faces turned hopeful as the door opened and they saw Harry begin to emerge from the room with Draco. Both their eyes immediately fell on the black bag in Harry’s hand.

“Is that. . .?” Ron asked, his voice trailing off.

Hermione’s eyes, still polyjuiced as Bellatrix’s, were wide as she stared at both boys. “That’s the cup, isn’t it?”

“Yeah,” Harry said, grinning. “But it was being protected. Draco did something and now he’s —”

“Intruders!” came a shrill cry from beside them.

Harry turned to see the goblin glaring coldly at him and his friends.

“What, no —”

“Intruders! Thieves!” The goblin pulled out a dagger and brandished it, making them all stand back hastily.

Harry stared in horror as he realized his mistake in leaving the vault without wearing the cloak, and met the eyes of his friends who were similarly horrorstruck. Harry didn’t know what to do, but he raised his trembling hand toward the livid goblin.

_“Imperio!”_

Immediately, the goblin wrapped both his hands around his neck and began to choke himself.

The trio stared in confused terror before they turned to where the curse had been voiced from, only to see Draco with his head bowed standing still near the vault door. The blond was holding his wand in one hand and Hufflepuff’s cup in the other, and Harry felt mildly bewildered at the cup having left his grasp without his noticing.  

“Wha —?”

“Stop it, you’re killing him!” Hermione cried, rushing over to kneel next to the goblin, trying in vain to pull his own hands away from his neck.

“Mate, what the hell are you doing?” Ron yelled, whipping his gaze between Draco and the struggling goblin. The creature’s face was turning blue from asphyxiation, and his eyes were becoming bloodshot. Hermione began to scream louder, clawing at the goblin’s hands hopelessly.  

Draco didn’t answer. His shoulders began to convulse, and for a moment Harry was concerned that something had happened to the blond to make him upset. Then he realized that Draco wasn’t hurt, he was _laughing_. 

“My, my, almost got away with it,” his soft, mocking laugh said. But there was a dark edge to it, a harshness that was familiar to Harry.

Green eyes rounded with absolute fear as Draco finally raised his head, and underneath his blond fringe were eyes so red it was foolish to think they could be matched by some trivial glamour. The blond’s magical aura and even his body language were all wrong; a wicked smirk was split across the blond’s pale face while blood red eyes stared hungrily at Harry. A growl set deep in his throat as the dark being watched his prey. “The Dark Lord will not be pleased,” his voice purred, sharp teeth gleaming.

“Mors,” Harry ground out, glaring across the room as his body tensed. Behind him, he could hear Hermione crying now and Ron cursing loudly.

The goblin had choked to death.

The dark assassin raised a blond eyebrow at the scene before his eyes met Harry’s again. He smirked.

“Oh, Harry, didn’t your parents ever teach you that it’s rude to touch what doesn’t belong to you?” Mors murmured, and took a step towards the younger boy.

Harry immediately raised his hand, while Hermione and Ron rushed to his side waving their wands quickly.

_“Incarcerous!”_

_“Stupefy!”_

Two blasts of light moved towards the dark being but Mors deflected both with a simple wave of Draco’s wand. The spells flew past and hit the stone wall behind him.

“ _Crucio_.”

Harry lunged backwards, but Mors had been aiming for Hermione and the spell hit her straight on. She began to scream and convulse on the floor.

“Hermione!” Ron roared in outrage, turning to throw another spell at the blond.

“ _Imperio_.”

The redhead’s wand dropped from his hand as he used it to wrap around his throat and squeeze until tears began to leak from his blue eyes. He fell to the floor, twitching. 

“No! Stop it!” Harry screamed, pulling hard at Ron’s hand to stop him. The blue eyes looked wetly at him, pleading in their blank vastness as he choked on the ground, dying.

Merlin, _no_.

Panicking, Harry threw out his hand as thoughts raced through his mind. He hurriedly cast, “ _Stupefy!_ ” Ron’s eyes rolled back into his head and he collapsed, his hand instantly becoming limp against his neck.

But he was breathing, barely.

Enraged and absolutely horrified, Harry stood to confront Mors until he suddenly felt himself unable to move. An invisible hold was spelled over him, keeping Harry frozen except for the racing in his heart and the slice of fear tearing through him.

“Oh, Harry, Harry,” the dark voice chastised, and red eyes looked him over with dark amusement as Mors approached. He stood until he was uncomfortably close to whisper in the boy’s ear, his cool breath brushing Harry’s face. “ _Harry_.”

Harry felt a warm, sick shiver course through him as he heard Draco’s voice. No, no, _it’s not Draco!_

But it _was_ Draco’s face so close to his, his sweet and familiar scent surrounding Harry. Harry could feel himself reacting to the blond, he couldn't help it. His green eyes became lidded, and Harry wanted to give in to the lull of Draco’s voice whispering sweet nothings in his ear. He wanted it, wanted so badly to give up. Wanted so badly to believe that Draco was with him now, loving him and saying such sweet promises.

“You will let me kill your friends. And then you’ll come with me. Leave them behind. Leave everything behind. They’ve done nothing for you.”

_Yes, yes. Anything._

“Come with me where we will rule this world together. Stay with me, Harry. Run away with me. So that we can be together, always.”

Harry felt Draco’s lips brushing softly across his cheek, and he pressed into it. He couldn’t help it. Harry wanted to be with Draco so much. He’d do anything to be with him. To feel his skin, to touch his hair, to kiss those lips.

Harry looked up to where Draco’s beautiful gray eyes would be, and paused. He blinked. Then rational thought surged through Harry and he snapped out of it. Because the blood red eyes staring back at him told the truth. Those were not Draco’s eyes. Those eyes belonged to a monster, a vicious parasite who had stolen his lover’s body.

 _Fuck_.

Was Draco alright? Did he know? Was he aware of what Mors was doing with his body? Deep down, Harry knew he did. It’s why Draco had been acting so different since he woke up in the Hospital Wing. Draco had known that he had killed all those people. Draco remembered everything. And Harry had been too blind and distracted to see what it’d been doing to the blond. Harry should’ve pushed harder. He should’ve done more.

“No,” Harry forced himself to growl out, focusing all his energy on trying to move his fingers.

“No?” Mors pulled back, frowning with dark eyes. His hand slid down to grip Harry’s chin hard, and Mors let loose a wicked chuckle. “You seem to think you have a choice, Harry Potter. But I can easily take that away. I can make you do anything. I can have you kill your friends for me, even. Wouldn’t that be absolutely lovely?” he murmured, pushing Harry until his back was against the stone wall. Mors pressed further until his body was firmly against the younger boy’s, trapping him, and curled a hand at the base of Harry’s neck, sliding long, narrow fingers into the thick locks while his other hand slid his wand across Harry’s chest. With a wicked grin, Mors huskily whispered, “ _Imperio_.”

At the same time, Harry distantly heard Hermione’s voice cry out, “ _Petrificus Totalus!_ ”

A beam of light slammed into Mors’ back, making the dark assassin grunt. He wasn’t completely frozen, unbelievably, as his lips curled into a harsh sneer.

But it was enough for his hold on Harry to disappear. With a forceful growl, Harry pulled away from Mors and hurriedly reached for Draco’s wand. He ripped it away from Mors’ grasp and then focused his own magic as he raised the wand. Harry concentrated on those blood red eyes and cast against his overcome lover.

“ _Stupefy!_ ”   

 

* * *

 

A single scar against the palm of his pale hand.

Harry knew a mess of scars covered Draco’s chest, done by his own hand unfortunately, but seeing the scar on Draco’s palm caused him the most grief, ironically. Because that scar, their bond scar, told of a time when both boys had been at their happiest. Even with the war looming over them, Draco’s mission threatening his family’s life, and Harry’s obligation to the wizarding world weighing heavily down on his shoulders, they’d had each other; at least, for that moment. They’d bonded, they’d been in love, they’d been happy.   

And now . . .

Harry’s bloodshot eyes flickered over the pale form of Draco as he lay still against the white hospital sheets. Harry’s back was aching from sitting in the chair for so long, and his teeth hurt from clenching so hard. Everything in him hurt, really. Everything ached, but there wasn’t a pain potion Harry could take that would remove the deep hurt he felt inside. The betrayal. The heartache.

The stunning spell Harry had cast on Mors had been powerful, but an entire day had passed and the spell had already worn off. Draco should have woken up, if not for nearly damaging his magical core just minutes before Mors had possessed him. Thus, Draco was still unconscious as he healed and regained his magic. Madame Pomfrey had been called away shortly after Draco had been brought in. She’d admitted she couldn’t do much besides let time heal his magical wound and had placed monitoring spells in place for when he’d awake from his magical coma. Then she left, telling Harry that she wouldn’t return for several hours due to an emergency in Hogsmeade.

In the meantime, Harry refused to leave.

Harry twirled the ten-inch, hawthorn wand in his hand. He remembered when he’d returned the wand back to Draco the night before they’d left to Gringotts. He remembered seeing the confused delight in those gray eyes as he’d gazed on what he’d previously believed to be lost.

_“Where did you get it?” Draco asked Harry, tears springing to his eyes as he ran his fingers over the smooth wood._

_Harry smiled softly, tucking his face into the side of Draco’s neck to drop a light kiss on his skin. “I found it. At the train station. When you . . .”_

_Draco’s brows furrowed as he looked closely at Harry. “When they’d kidnapped me.”_

_Harry’s expression was dark when he nodded. “Yes.”_

_“Why now? Why not give it to me earlier?”_

_Harry let out a soft chuckle. “Oh, and ruin your wandless fun?” he teased not unkindly. But then his expression turned serious. “I just want you to have it. I don’t know what will happen at Gringotts . . .”_

_“We’ll be fine,” Draco assured him. They both heard the doubt lingering in the air at his words, but Harry grinned softly at him._

_“I know. But it couldn’t hurt to have it just in case. Besides, it’s yours after all.”_

_Draco grinned at Harry, and made sure to show his gratitude to the other boy with a deep heartfelt kiss, which Harry enjoyed immensely._

_“Thank you, Harry. For everything.”_

Hours later, that same wand had tortured Hermione, made Ron almost kill himself, and had nearly Imperiused Harry into doing something unforgiveable.

Harry’s hand clenched hard on the wood.

But it had been Mors, not Draco, who had wielded the wand. Mors. _Not Draco_.

Harry knew the difference. He knew that Draco would have never done such horrible things. Harry shook his head, willing any doubts in his mind to cease and disappear. His stomach still felt queasy at the notion of Draco being aware when Mors used him. And Harry hated the thought of Draco holding the knowledge of Mors all to himself without telling Harry or anyone else.

But what’s done was done. They needed to figure out what to do about Mors’ possession over Draco now and how to get rid of it. Was it like Riddle’s diary and Ginny? 

There were so many questions, and although Hermione was currently searching in the library for answers, Harry felt at a loss.

The nearly had all the horcruxes destroyed, with the exception of Nagini and the cup.

They were another step closer in defeating Voldemort.

The Order was getting stronger every day; they gathered new intel and helped aid villages that were being raided frequently by Death Eaters.

Hogwarts was still safe and secure.

All of this should’ve helped reassure Harry that everything would turn out alright. But none of it seemed to matter when he turned and saw the dark circles and faint worry lines on Draco’s face. It all seemed hopeless when he realized he could do nothing to aid his own loved one’s suffering.

“I can’t lose you,” Harry found himself whispering aloud. His voice sounded broken to his own ears in the silent darkness of the room.

Harry’s eyes landed on the bond scar on Draco’s hand again, and he reached over to intertwine it with his own. The scars lined up, but Harry felt nothing. The bond had broken after all.

Harry took in a shaky breath. “I can’t do this without you, Draco. I can’t help you. Not if you won’t let me.”

“I’m . . . sorry . . .” a ragged whisper came from the bed.

Harry’s teary eyes shot towards Draco, and his heart lurched at the sight of those gray eyes weakly staring at him. He clenched harder onto Draco’s hand.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” Harry demanded in a hoarse tone.

The blond closed his eyes for a moment, then opened them to reveal the sorrow he couldn’t seem to voice. “I . . . couldn’t.”

“Don’t you trust me?” said Harry, feeling hurt and lost. He didn’t know what to do. He didn’t know how to fix this. “I thought we promised to tell each other everything.”

Draco breathed deeply through the pain. It wasn’t a physical pain but he could still feel the loss of his magic. It hadn’t recovered completely. Within a few hours, it might have, but he’d awakened early from his magical sleep once he’d felt Harry’s presence nearby. Draco almost wished he hadn’t said anything, so as to spare Harry — and himself — this uncomfortable and painful confrontation.

“I don’t know what to do,” Harry continued, his voice shaking. His hand in Draco’s also trembled, from nerves or anger Draco couldn’t tell. “I can’t figure out how to save you. What can I do to save you?”

Harry’s voice border lined on hysterical, and Draco watched him with sad eyes. Draco couldn’t answer him, and that pained him more than a hundred Cruciatus Curses. Because to speak of the truth about Mors, to tell Harry everything he wanted to hear, would only bring more pain and suffering to the both of them.

Draco was fully aware of what had taken place at Gringotts when Mors had taken control over him. He’d raged and screamed and despaired as he’d witnessed his own wand strike Granger and Weasley down. Draco had ached and yelled in horror as Mors had taunted Harry, torturing him, nearly Imperiusing him into killing his own friends. And if Mors had been successful, Draco would’ve been powerless to stop him.

Even now, Draco was too weak to stop Mors from trying to influence him. He had a hold over him, for now, as his magic had somewhat returned, but Draco knew it would only be a matter of time before another moment of weakness would let the dark assassin through.

Draco was a danger. Mors would have him kill everyone, including Harry, and Draco wouldn’t be able to save anyone, including himself, once that happened.

It was pointless explaining that to Harry, though. He knew the Gryffindor wouldn’t understand.

But even if Draco could think to finish some kind of explanation to Harry, Mors would rise and strike him down. He’d take away Draco’s memories and take full control of his body.

Which meant there was only one solution.

“I don’t know what to do,” Harry was still muttering, shaking his head. His face was haggard and his usual green eyes had lost their light. Draco was nearly horrified as he realized what he was witnessing. “If you won’t tell me, I can’t help you, Draco. So please, please tell me what is going on. Tell me what is happening.”

“There’s no point,” said Draco softly.

He expected the enraged expression and the pulsing magic at his words. He watched almost passively as Harry nearly blew up at the blond’s simple statement.

Draco couldn’t be bothered. Not when he was hurting so much at what he needed to do.

“Have you destroyed the horcrux yet?” he interrupted Harry’s angry rambling.

His question brought Harry up short. He glared and answered just as furiously. “Not yet. Ron’s getting basilisk fangs.”

Draco nodded, vaguely remembering Granger’s theory about basilisk venom.

“I assume Granger is in the library then.” Harry’s lips set into a thin line answered his unspoken question. “And you’re here to interrogate me about what happened.”

“Damn it, Draco! You know that’s not what this is —”

“I’ll save you the trouble by telling you this: I can’t tell you.”

Harry looked at him like he’d just been slapped. “What? What do you mean —”

“I’m tired, so I’ll simply repeat myself one last time. I can’t tell you. About any of it.”

There was silence. It was eerie and unsettling, and Draco nearly looked up at Harry. But he stopped himself in time. Looking over, seeing those eyes, would do nothing but bring pain to them both.

“I don’t understand.” And Draco’s heart broke all over again at just how _lost_ Harry sounded. “Why? Why are you doing this?”

“I’m tired, Harry,” Draco forced the words out. He didn’t know how he kept his voice from wavering, but the abruptness to his tone sounded through. Draco knew it would hurt Harry. Merlin, he knew how much. But again, that was the point. “I want to be alone now.”

Draco turned onto his side, facing away from Harry. He heard a sharp inhale of breath behind him before Draco felt Harry’s hand slip away from his own.

“No. No, you’re not doing this.”

Harry’s voice sounded so powerful, so achingly sincere. Draco nearly wept at Harry’s belief that he could solve everything with sheer Gryffindor determination.

But Draco was a Slytherin, and that’s not how things worked with him.

“Stay if you must. I don’t really care, either way,” he muttered. His fist clenched hard under the covers.

“Draco Malfoy, I know what you’re doing. You’re just pushing me away —”

“And why would I do that?” he responded in a disinterested tone.

“You’re upset that you hurt me, that you hurt Ron and Hermione. But that wasn’t you, that was Mors. I know that it must’ve hurt you to see that —”

“I don’t want to talk about this.”

“But why not?” Harry insisted. “I’m trying to help you, you prat. If you could just talk to me —”

“In the morning,” Draco said abruptly. “I’ll explain everything in the morning.”

Harry’s brows furrowed, staring at Draco warily. “Everything.”

Draco ignored his racing heart and forced himself to shrug carelessly. “Sure.”

“Well, alright then,” Harry said, sounding like he couldn’t quite believe that Draco had given in. “I’ll just stay here —”

“You should go.”

Draco could practically feel how still Harry went.

“What?”

“I told you earlier, I want to be alone.”

Harry paused, thinking quickly. “Yes, but . . . I wanted to stay —”

“I went, didn’t I?” Draco forced out, not having to fake the anger this time. “I went to Gringotts for you and your side. I helped you out. And what did it cost me? I nearly became a Squib thanks to doing the _right_ thing. Now all I want is some peace and quiet. Or is that too much to ask?”

Draco waited, hearing the last of his words hanging in the air between them. He waited to hear what Harry would say next. And part of Draco — the selfish, naïve part of him — yearned for the boy to say what he really wanted to hear.

_I’ll never leave you. I’ll stay with you, always._

“Right. Okay. Sorry for disturbing you then.”

Draco had to bite on his tongue to keep from screaming.

“I’ll just. . . er, I’ll go see how Ron’s coming along with . . .” His voice trailed off as he left the Hospital Wing.

It wasn’t until Draco heard the doors firmly close that he let himself release a broken sounded cry. The tears that had been streaming down his face fell in thick rivulets now.

And while the guilt ate at Draco and he felt his heart being broken beyond repair, the dark assassin that threatened to control him was satisfied. He purred within Draco’s mind, sniffing at the deep bout of heartache that he could sense in the air. And he grinned.

_Excellent work, Draco._

Draco ignored the voice. He ignored the pain in his muscles as he sat up. He ignored the numbness in his legs as he stood. He ignored everything and focused solely on the window in the far side of the room.

_Have you given up then? So powerful and yet so weak._

Draco tried not to listen. He shuffled forwards, leaning on everything in his path as he made his way across the Infirmary.

_I will find him, you know. I’ll destroy him and his friends. I’ll take everything away._

Draco reached the window and put a hand on the ledge. Using every bit of his strength, he pulled himself up until he could stand fully against the glass.

He raised his hand and focused.

“ _Bombarda!_ ”

The glass shattered into pieces, leaving a gaping hole big enough for someone to fall through.

Draco raised himself until he was standing on the edge of the windowsill. He tried not to look down as he held on tightly to the stone walls on either side of him, else he had second thoughts.

_It’s my turn._

Draco somehow managed to smirk, even if it was bittersweet. Then a vision of Harry crossed his thoughts and Draco wholeheartedly welcomed it. If this was going to be the last time seeing him, Draco wanted to remember Harry’s carefree green eyes, his windswept hair as he flew by on his broom, the look on his face as he woke from a passionate night with Draco.

Draco smiled a last time. He felt ready. “I know.”

Then he let go.

 


	11. Chapter Eleven

_“Harry . . . please.”_

_“Draco,” he moaned in reply._

_Kisses rained on Harry’s cheeks and jaw._

_“Love me, Harry.”_

_“Yes, love, forever,” Harry whispered. “I’ll win this war, Draco. I’ll defeat him. With you beside me. And then we’ll travel away together. Living the rest of our lives with each other. In our cottage.”_

_“With 2.5 children,” Draco gasped._

_“Yes,” Harry hissed. “With lots of pets and a wide yard for a Quidditch field.”_

_“And we’ll grow old together,” the blond whispered brokenly. “Promise me, Harry.”_

_“I promise, Draco. We’ll grow old and fat, and we’ll be together until we die, holding hands.”_

_Draco huffed out a shaky laugh. “I will never be fat. I’ll always be gorgeous.”_

_“Yes,” Harry agreed. “Gorgeous and aged like fine wine.”_

_“But we’ll die together holding hands.”_

_Harry grinned at him. “Wouldn’t have it any other way.”_

 

Harry awoke with a strangled shout. His skin was hot, and the sheets of his bed were tangled around his legs. He sucked in a breath, unable to breathe properly for a moment as his heart raced madly in his chest.

But nothing else filled his head except Draco.

 _Merlin_ , Draco.

Harry’s eyes tightened as tears ran down his face. He let out a broken sob, curling onto his side as the harsh shock and realization burned through the core of him.

That future they’d promised each other was gone.

_Draco was gone._

Harry yelled out in pain again.

He was gone, and Harry didn’t know what to do.

 

* * *

 

For the rest of his life, Harry would regret leaving the Infirmary at that moment.

He’d only been gone for a few minutes too, just long enough to check in on Hermione in the library about any leads on their research.

Harry had quickly decided to return to the Hospital Wing, despite Draco’s earlier harsh words when he had kicked Harry out. But when he’d returned, Harry’s heart had dropped to the floor at seeing Draco’s empty bed and the broken window in the corner of the room.

He’d thought the worst.

 _Please_ . . . _Merlin_ , _no_.

Not this. Not Draco. 

When Harry had ran the window and looked — honestly not knowing what to expect to see but knowing what he _hadn’t_ wanted to see — he’d been greeted with the sight of an empty lawn below the tower.

Where was Draco?

He’d gone to the bottom to search for any sign of the blond. He’d cast revealing spells, tracking spells — nothing showed that Draco had been there.

After consulting with the Headmistress and Kingsley, the pair concluded that Draco had left Hogwarts. McGonagall had felt a breach in the wards when it’d happened; someone had apparated off the school’s grounds.

Harry hadn’t wanted to believe that Draco would just take a nightly stroll out of the castle. He nearly feared that Draco had been taken again. But no, when looking back on their last conversation, Harry had to admit that the blond hadn’t had any intention of talking to him in the morning.

Draco had been telling Harry to leave. He’d planned to escape.

So now in the days that passed, Harry walked around the castle in a daze. Part of him wanted to go out to search for Draco though he knew it was a useless venture. Harry didn’t have a clue where to look.

Then he’d seen Narcissa Malfoy in the Great Hall. Her eyes were rimmed with redness and her complexion was much more pale than normal.

She gave Harry a leveled stare as he approached.

“My son,” she muttered to him. Her expression was blank, distant almost. But her tone was cold. “He takes after his father in some ways. They had the same approach to many things. The same perseverance. The same stubbornness.” She sniffed in a genteel manner. “Unlike Lucius, however, my son has always thought himself weak. That was his father’s doing, I suppose, and mine. I witnessed so many instances where Draco would try to prove how strong he was. Even at the age of six, I saw him struggling to cast magic for the first time. Lucius wasn’t quite happy with him though I knew Draco could do it, and eventually he did. He’d grown quite strong at it, as well, from practicing so much. Draco managed to pass beginner levels well before Hogwarts. Still, it wasn’t enough.”

A haunted look took over Narcissa’s expression. She paused for a moment while she dabbed at her eyes with a tattered handkerchief. When she continued, her voice turned brittle.

“He wasn’t supposed to be here. He was supposed to be at home. With me. Where I could take care of him.”

Harry stayed silent.

“And then that _monster_ —” Her voice trailed off; she looked away before continuing in a more slightly broken tone. “I was there when it happened. I was hiding. Foolish, cowardly. Call me what you like. They were all gathered there, waiting for the Dark Lord to begin. And I . . . I couldn’t bear seeing him like that. Not my dragon, not Draco. But I’d h-heard him s-screaming, c-crying. . . A-And I’d tried to go to him, but they. . . they would not have let me see him —”

“Wait, _what_?”

“That night—” said Narcissa, her hands nearly trembling. “The Dark Lord performed a spell. I —”

“What kind of spell?” Harry demanded.

“I’m unsure. But it . . . it did something. My dragon looked changed after that. He spoke differently. His magic didn’t feel the same. He was not my son after that.”

Harry clenched his teeth. “He will always be your son. He’s still Draco.”

Narcissa Malfoy gave him a bitter smile. “Dark magic was performed, Mr. Potter, the likes of which I never wish to witness again. What happened changed my dragon irreparably.”

“But you’ve seen him. He is —”

“A prisoner that is being tormented by the creature that possesses him. I am no fool, Mr. Potter. I know more than you of what my son has endured. I had hoped when I saw him again that you and your friends had found some way to cure him. Severus had mentioned —”

“ _Snape?_ ”

Narcissa gave Harry a cool expression. “Yes. He’d been there, too, that night. We had to watch in horror as that monster —”

“Snape is a Death Eater,” Harry growled darkly.

A deep set of blue eyes narrowed at him. “Mr. Potter, I assure you, Severus Snape believes in your cause. He let me into the castle, after all, and cared for me while I was on the run from the Dark Lord. He could have easily betrayed me. Severus gained nothing from granting me sanctuary. And yet, he did.” Then her frown deepened, her expression turning wary. She turned to rummage in her pocket, where she pulled out a single vial filled with a swirly essence. Her blue eyes bore deep into Harry as she held the vial out. “This is for you.”

Harry frowned, not making a move to take it. “What is it?” he demanded.

“It is something of vile importance, according to a dear friend,” Narcissa said, her eyes calculating. “While he is not a kind man and has made many mistakes in his past, he is dear to me. He said this is for you, and so I am delivering it upon his request. However, he does demand that you not see it until the very end.”

Harry’s frown deepened. “What does that mean?”

But Narcissa stood straight, letting go of the vial to allow it to float in the space between them. “My son is in danger, Mr. Potter. He is not lost or missing. He has not run away like some foolish child. He is out there, fighting. And though we may not agree on many things, Mr. Potter, we both have a mutual desire for this war to be over and for him to be safe.” Her blue eyes sparked with a foreboding anger that Harry was nearly sure wasn’t aimed directly at him. “Find Draco and end this wretched war.” With those last words, she left the room.

At first, Harry didn’t know what to think. Narcissa’s ominous tone set him on edge, nearly pissing him off with its cryptic attitude, but something in her words made him perk up; they gave him energy. And when he glimpsed the vial begin to wobble, Harry’s limbs reacted without his thinking and he grabbed the vial from where it’d been floating. Trying not to think about it all too much, he quickly tossed it into his pocket and made a mental note to have Hermione check the vial for curses later.

He left the Great Hall, frowning and honestly not paying attention to his surroundings as he wandered the school, lost in thought. The voices calling his name didn’t really register until he’d already turned the corner.

“Harry! Harry!”

Harry stopped and turned around, only to gape at the sight of his friends holding hands and running towards him.

“What —?”

“Long story, mate,” said Ron with a lopsided grin. But he was blushing to the roots of his mussed hair and his lips looked bruised.

“What?”

“Ron was being brilliant,” Hermione confessed, her face pink. “He was talking about what could happen if the Death Eaters should attack. . . and the house elves. . . we can’t just leave them, right?”

“And well, it’s now or never, isn’t it?”

Harry felt truly lost. “. . .what?”

“Never mind that,” said Ron, but he was still smiling as he gripped Hermione’s hand. “We have something for you.”

He pulled out an envelope and handed it to Harry.

“Aberforth sent it through the Order. Said he went by his shop now that Hogsmeade has been cleared of the Death Eaters, thanks to Charlie and his team of Aurors. It was stuck to his front steps, but it was specifically messaged to you.”

Harry glanced warily at the letter as he took it from Ron. Sure enough, his name was scrawled on the front of the parchment. In Draco’s handwriting.

Heart suddenly thundering loud in his chest, Harry tore open the envelope to see a letter and a ring encased within. Careful not to touch the ring, Harry pulled the letter out to read its contents. It said simply,

 

_Godric’s Hollow_

_D_

 

“It could be a trap,” Hermione said bluntly. “You can’t possibly —”

“Of course he is,” said Ron, rolling his eyes. “When has Harry ever turned down an opportunity to face absolute peril?”

“I don’t care if it’s a trap,” Harry argued, pointedly ignoring Ron’s knowing expression. “I’m going.”

“We’re coming with you,” Hermione said sternly, tone brooking no argument. Ron’s expression matched hers evenly.

Harry glanced at them, studying both their determined stances and the way their hands were clasped together. They looked strong, united like that. Like they could achieve anything. It made something in Harry ache terribly to see his two friends like that. Ignoring the lump in his throat, Harry nodded.

“Right. We leave first thing tomorrow morning then. There’ll be less chance for an attack in broad daylight.”

Hermione and Ron beamed, seemingly relieved and agreeable to the plan.

“Er, should we let Kingsley or McGonagall know?” Harry asked. “For backup?”

Hermione furrowed her brows in thought. “Yes, that would be a good idea. Better to be prepared, in case. We’ll ask McGonagall if we can leave the castle tomorrow first thing. She’ll have to let down the wards for us.”

“I’ll talk to the others,” said Harry, turning quickly in the direction where the other Order members were housed.

He listened as Hermione and Ron's footsteps ran down the opposite hall, and waited. Then Harry did a complete turnabout and headed up the castle stairs in the direction of his bedroom. Harry hurried to his room, grabbed his Cloak, and raced down the steps that led outside.

Night had already fallen. It was dark when Harry donned his cloak and crossed the grounds towards the Whomping Willow. The Order had already cleared the passage free of debris and dark spells. Now only an Auror patrol was stationed nearby.

Feeling slightly bad but not regretful, Harry aimed a mild stunning spell at the guard before casting the freezing charm at the Whomping Willow.

Harry hurried quickly through the passage, waiting until he stood in the middle of the Shrieking Shack to pull out the envelope from Draco. Covered by the cloak, with wand in hand, Harry tipped the envelope over until the ring landed in his palm.

The portkey activated, and Harry felt the familiar tugging sensation pull him away.

 

* * *

 

He arrived inside a large dimly-lit room, and it was freezing. It took Harry a bit longer than a moment to realize where he’d landed, which was in someone’s house — or basement, more like — before he figured out that he was alone. He stood for a few minutes, waiting quietly to listen for footsteps or an alarm going off. He heard neither.

Harry decided to let some more time to pass before finally slipping off his cloak. He walked around, surveying the sparse amount of furniture in the room: a couch, a table with two lit candles atop it, a bookcase, and two chairs. He cast revealing spells around the space, all the while noting that there were no windows in the room. The stairs that led out of the basement lay in a dark corner where the candle light couldn’t reach.

He’d just been debating whether to cross the stairs when he heard a muffled _crack_ in the opposite corner of him.

Harry whirled around, pointing his wand directly at the dark-robed figure that stood leaning against the wall. His heart pounded with mingled relief and hurt at seeing the blond.

“Draco,” he heard his voice say almost brokenly.

Gray eyes looked at him through his loose fringe. Draco said nothing in reply.

“Where — What are you doing here?” Harry asked, so close to just grabbing Draco and Apparating them both away from wherever the hell they were, away from this war. “Why am I here? What are we . . . why did you _leave?_ ”

“I was protecting you,” replied Draco.

Harry blinked, his eyebrows furrowed. “Protecting me? What the bloody hell, Draco? You had me fucking worried —”

“You’re using my wand.”

Harry pulled up short, glancing quickly at the wand in his hand before meeting gray eyes again. “Yeah, my wand broke. I told you. And er, it’s been working brilliant for me, better than the others I’ve tried . . .”

“Really?” Draco seemed to be amused by that, going by his soft smile. “I’m glad.”

“Er, sorry, I —”

“Don’t be. And don’t give it back. I don’t want it.”

Harry frowned, feeling sidetracked but not knowing what else to do with Draco just standing there, looking at him calmly like he hadn’t had Harry on fucking edge for the past several days.

“It’s your wand.”

“Which I hurt you and your friends with,” Draco said, frowning slightly. “I don’t need it, and I don’t want it.”

Harry shook his head, utterly bemused at the conversation. “Bloody hell, Draco, I’m not here to return your wand. I’m here to take you back to Hogwarts. Your mother and I have been —”

“I’m not going back.”

Draco’s gray eyes were staring deeply at him watching for his reaction, while Harry could only gape at him in disbelief.

“What are you talking about? Of course, you’re bloody coming back. Why the hell would you not come back?”

“I hurt you, Harry,” Draco interrupted him. “I can hurt you again. And if that were to happen, I wouldn’t be able to live with myself.”

“Then we’ll figure this out together,” Harry pressed, taking a step closer to Draco but stopping when he saw the blond flinch. Harry scowled darkly. “Whatever Mors is doing to you, we’ll work it out and solve it. _Together_.”

“Harry, stop.” Gray eyes stared imploringly at Harry. “You need to stop doing this.”

“Stop what? Wanting to protect you? Love you? What the fucking hell, Draco?”

“Please, just stop.”

“Then why am I bloody here?” Harry yelled, the fury and grief tearing through him. “Do you want us to lose the war? What the hell is this place? Why are you running away?”

“I’m not running away,” Draco sighed heavily, crossing his arms in front of him like a shield. From Harry.

The brunet glowered. “Really? Because it sure seems like it. Where the hell have you bloody been the last few days?”

“The Manor.”

Harry’s blood ran cold.

“What? Why? Vol—You-Know-Who is there!”

“I know.”

Gray eyes studied him beneath the blond fringe again, waiting.

Harry stood there, feeling utterly confused.

“If He’s there, then why—? I don’t understand. Are you wanting to die?”

“No, Harry.”

Harry snorted. “Really? Because it really seems like you do if you’re there! Of all bloody places, Draco, _why_ —?!” Then Harry stopped. And really thought about it. He felt his insides go icy cold. “No . . .”

“It’s not what you think.”

“You. . . You _joined_. . .?”

Draco shook his head wildly. “I couldn’t stop Mors, Harry, I swear. I tried.”

“These last couple of days, you had me sick worrying. . . And all this time, you were with Him?” Harry gasped, feeling an icy shard tearing into his chest.

“Harry. . .”

“Did you participate?”

Draco’s arms fell to his sides and he dropped the nonchalant façade. “Harry . . .”

“ _Did you participate?!_ ”

A few moments passed. Then Draco stared at him, a shine of tears coating his gray eyes. “Yes.”

Harry couldn’t breathe.

He couldn’t fucking _breathe_.

“D-Did you kill. . .?”

“Yes.”

Harry turned away, not able to look at Draco. He felt nauseous. He felt like he was going to sick up right there and then.

“I couldn’t stop —”

“Was it Mors or was it you?” Harry demanded, refusing to turn back around. He couldn’t see Draco, couldn’t face him; with his back turned, he could barely hear his response. But as he did, the icy shard went deeper inside of Harry.

“It was both of us,” Draco replied, his voice sounding so matter-of-fact. “Before I’d even left Hogwarts, Harry, Mors was already taking control over me. With my magic depleted, he couldn’t do much. But I knew it was only a matter of time, so I left. Mors managed to somehow get me to the Manor by Apparating us. When Mors took us to the Dark Lord, he told him what we did. The Dark Lord knows about your search for the horcruxes, your connection to him, everything.”

Green eyes grew round in absolute horror. “ _Merlin_ , Draco, what the fuck did you do?”

“It was torture, Harry. . . and I couldn’t —” Draco shook his head, his blond hair moving wildly. “Listen, Harry, I can’t change what’s happened. But I need to tell you something. He’s planning an attack on Hogwarts tomorrow.”

Harry’s stomach dropped. “What? _Tomorrow_ —?”

“You were bloody stupid to come here by yourself, but I knew you probably would. Bloody Gryffindor,” Draco chastised, and his tone sounded so bittersweet. “You’ll never change.”

“How do you know he’s going to attack tomorrow?” Harry demanded.

He felt all out of sorts, and so much was going on. He had so many questions. But mainly, Harry just wanted to take Draco _home_.

“Why couldn’t you have just informed the Order? Why me? You say you’ve been with Him this entire time and then out of nowhere —” Harry stopped suddenly, and faced Draco completely, eyeing him. “Is this a trap?”

The blond’s expression abruptly flickered, a range of emotions crossing his face before it settled into a deep annoyed frown. “If this had been a trap, you’d be dead by now, Chosen One,” Draco nearly sneered.

Harry frowned. “Stop acting like that,” he scowled, and holstered his wand before pacing in the room. “Draco, I can't let you do this. I can’t let you go. You know I can't. Please, why won’t you just come home?”

“Mors —”

“Fuck that!” Harry shouted, eyes flashing. “We’ll protect you, we’ll do something. But you are not leaving me again!”

“I told you —”

“We made a bloody promise, Draco!”

“Yes, well things change,” Draco sighed angrily, closing his eyes. “Your side is about to lose. I’ve done what I set out to do — I warned you. Now I need to return before he realizes —”

“Draco, stop!” Harry yelled, getting angrier with every word Draco said. He wanted to shake him. He wanted to grab Draco and shake some sense into him. He wanted to just take Draco home.  Harry clenched his hands into fists instead. “Why are you calling it my side? We’re on the same side! Aren’t we?”

Draco looked away, refusing to meet his eyes.

And Harry couldn’t believe him. He didn’t want to think. . .

“ _Aren’t we?_ ”

“Yes, Harry,” Draco admitted with a heavy sigh, and the cold ice building in Harry’s chest loosened a bit. “But it’s not that simple. You don’t know how hard it is right now to stay in control.”

“So, you decide to side with Him then? Killing innocent lives is _easier_ —”

“You don’t fucking know anything!” shouted Draco, and his gray eyes flashed wildly. Harry thought he saw red for a moment before it quickly vanished, but not before Draco uttered a low groan and curled into himself like he was in pain.

“Draco?” Harry rushed forward to hold the blond against him, cradling him as Draco continued to shudder in his arms.

The blond looked pale, and now that Harry was closer to him he could see the dark circles around Draco’s eyes and the slightly sunken in cheek bones. Merlin, Draco looked horrible. “Harry, I’m so fucking sorry,” Draco groaned out, as if it pained him to say the words. “I didn’t want to, but I had no choice. I can’t hurt you, Harry. Not again.”

“Draco, no, I’m alright —”

“D-Dumbledore had planned for me to spy, remember? It was part of our oath.”

“Sod that fucking —!”

“And I’m doing it, Harry. I know when he’s going to attack. But you need to attack him first.” Draco pulled out a roll of parchment from inside his robes, handing it to Harry.

Bemused, Harry rolled the parchment out and surveyed it, his wandering eyes slowly growing wide as he realized fully what Draco was saying. 

“What—? Draco, you . . .”

“I still love you,” Draco sighed heavily, and it seemed almost like he wanted to burrow deeper into Harry’s embrace. “But this war comes first. I’m too much of a risk with you. I’ll try to hold them off as much as I can from the inside before your people arrive —”

Harry kissed him.

 

* * *

 

It felt like all the darkness in the world had disappeared. The world was bright; in full alignment again.

Draco didn’t even try to stop himself from kissing Harry back. He threw himself into Harry, wrapping his arms and legs around him, tasting and humming into the other boy’s mouth. A sense of peace filled his entire being as Harry’s tongue swept against his. And it was so, so sweet, so beautiful. Draco felt dizzy with want.

Harry stroked the side of Draco’s cheek and felt warm tears sliding down his palm. Draco was crying. Harry wanted to cry himself — from bittersweet joy, relief, sadness. He pulled Draco down over him, holding the blond close.

There was much that still needed to be said; Harry had so many unanswered questions. But he didn't care about any of that now. Harry didn't want to talk anymore. He needed Draco, and he didn’t want to let the blond go ever again. He couldn’t. Harry kissed Draco harder.

They devoured each other’s mouths, licking and sucking and biting at soft lips; their hands wandering wildly over and underneath clothing that soon came off. Their sighs mixed in the air as caresses fell on naked skin, fueling their drive to thrust deeper and harder. They held on as if they couldn’t get enough; their kisses were messy, open, passionate.

And everything felt normal in that moment. All was right in the world. They joined together again and again and _again_. And when their harsh cries finally rang in the air from their release, they felt untouchable.  

 


	12. Chapter Twelve

Draco woke, unable to tell if they had been asleep for a few minutes or a few hours. He was wrapped in warmth and his heart felt full — it was the most peace he’d known in a long time. Draco smiled and kept his eyes closed, inhaling and savoring the scent of Harry tangled up next to him. He so deeply wanted to nuzzle against the curly, black hair against his cheek, wanted to enjoy having the most beautiful creature with him. He yearned to wake Harry with kisses and take him into his arms, open himself up and have Harry one final time.

And then he remembered where they were, and he just barely stopped himself.

The tears were already falling when Draco’s eyes opened.

He couldn’t breathe. He could barely think. He wanted to give in, he wanted to stay. He wanted to run away. He’d rather die. _Merlin, he didn’t want to_ —

Draco bit back a sob and tore himself away from his happiness, quickly casting a silent sleeping spell over the brunet that would last just long enough for him to escape. 

_He will lose. And he will die._

At Mors’ scathing words, Draco felt a tremble begin in his hands and a sharp ache bloom against his temple — fuck, he was losing control of himself.

He tried to focus on dressing quickly, but he couldn’t help his racing thoughts, couldn’t stop himself from having one last look —

Draco let his gray eyes roam over Harry’s sleeping body, memorizing everything — those rosy lips, his flushed cheeks, his thick eyelashes, his godawful messy hair —  until his eyes landed on the bond scar that stretched across the palm of Harry’s hand. Draco’s fists clenched over his own and he yearned _hard_.

He leant over to press a gentle, lingering kiss upon Harry.

And he knew. Draco knew without a doubt that the next time he saw Harry would be his last. He tried to ignore the cutting ache in his heart at the realization.  

“Harry, you’re going to win,” he whispered. Draco imagined the smile on Harry’s face was because of his words.

Then, while summoning every part of himself that made him a true Malfoy, Draco apparated away from the dim room with a loud _crack_.

 

* * *

 

Harry knew before he’d opened his eyes that Draco wouldn’t be there.

His arm was outstretched over an empty, cold space. His glasses were thrown around somewhere. And his limbs were already aching with every small movement.

He didn’t care. It hurt more to wake up alone in a dimly lit basement.

Harry dressed himself slowly, feeling so blank and twisted up inside. Part of him wanted to cry at the tender reminder of what had transpired just hours ago, while most of him felt grateful that it all hadn’t been a dream.

He’d seen Draco, had spoken to him in person. Draco was alright. For the most part.

Filled with a determination he hadn’t felt hours ago, Harry ascended the stairs out of the basement and into what looked like someone’s home. It was empty, thankfully. He wondered briefly at the owners, then cringed at the realization of what might have happened to them. Harry hurriedly crossed to the front door, determined not to look anywhere at anything, and opened the door warily to check for dark robes or any sign of death eaters outside. He was surprised to find himself on a familiar street, and after he opened the door wider he realized he was in a home in muggle London. Further down the street was the Leaky Cauldron.

Harry wanted to laugh. He shook his head bitter-sweetly at Draco’s craftiness because of course the blond would send the Order a letter written with a different destination. The portkey was probably only meant to activate to Harry’s touch alone, too.

Merlin, he loved that boy.

Shaking his head one more time, Harry reached into his pocket to slip the ring onto his finger and felt the portkey tug him back to the Shrieking Shack.   

 

* * *

 

Harry was almost prepared for the outrage and disappointment on the three women’s faces, but he still cringed hard at the combined glares from Hermione, McGonagall _and_ Narcissa Malfoy.

“Do you know how bloody dangerous — sorry Headmistress — it was to go on alone like that, Harry? You could have been killed!” Hermione yelled at him the moment he’d sauntered into the Great Hall.

“Rightly so, Ms. Granger,” frowned McGonagall, staring down her nose at Harry. “I am deeply disappointed in your terrible lack of judgement, Potter. I’d remove house points if I thought it would be effective.”

“You didn’t think his own mother would want to see him?” sneered Narcissa in an icy tone, her narrowed eyes cutting sharp into him.

Harry gulped.

“I —”

“Where is he? What have you done with my son?” Narcissa demanded, her blue eyes begging for an answer.

“He’s —”

“That was a stupid thing to do, Harry! Ron and I were half out of our wits looking for you in Godric’s Hollow and we couldn’t find you anywhere —”

“Endangering the lives of others, Potter, was extremely foolish —”

“Look, I’m sorry!” Harry broke in loudly. “I had to see him by myself. But he’s alright, mostly.”

“Where is he?” Narcissa repeated shrilly.

Harry shook his head. “I don’t know.”

Hermione frowned. “What do you mean, you don’t —”

“That’s not the main concern right now!” Harry tried to tell them. “Draco wanted me to —”

“What on earth is more important than my son’s well-being?” Narcissa shrieked, outraged.

Harry focused his glare at all of them. “Voldemort’s going to attack Hogwarts,” he snapped, almost pleased when finally, they, along with every Auror and Order member in the Great Hall, fell quiet at the tabooed name.

After the uneasy silence had lasted a bit too long, Arthur Weasley stepped forward. “Harry, are you sure?”

Harry nodded firmly. “I’m sure.”

“How do you know this?”

He took a deep breath, knowing the explosion that was sure to come. “Draco told me.”

Sure enough, the room erupted into cries of outrage and disbelief. Harry let a few seconds of it pass before he finally interrupted.

“I don’t care if you think that’s he not telling the truth after he left,” said Harry. “I’m not asking you to believe or trust someone you barely know. I am asking you to trust me. Draco, however it might have seemed, did not leave here by choice. He’s being coerced by Voldemort.”

“How do you know he’s not lying then!” a voice shouted from the back of the crowd.

Harry’s eyes narrowed. “Because I believe him. Draco is risking his life to play as spy against Voldemort and his death eaters. He swore an oath to Albus Dumbledore before he died that he would do anything for us.” His voice nearly broke at the last part. “Even going as far as pretending to be one of Voldemort’s faithful followers to get this important information for us. So, if you want to take your chances on not being prepared to battle tomorrow, be my guest. But if you’re ready to end this war once and for all, then you need to trust me. I already have a plan.”

Those nearest to him, Ron and Hermione included, stilled immediately at his words.

“We have to get everyone to safety first, mate,” Ron tried to interject, but paused when he saw Harry shaking his head.

“We’re not going to let him attack Hogwarts at all.”

Harry slipped the roll of parchment from his pocket, enlarging it so that everyone around him could see the blueprint of Malfoy Manor.

“We’re going to attack him first.”

 

* * *

 

The Order planned all through the night into the early hours of the morning on their strategy of attack on Malfoy Manor the next day. They’d hoped by starting the fight early, they would be able to prevent Voldemort and his followers from ever setting foot on Hogwarts grounds.

First, though, they needed to rest. With only a few hours left before dawn, everyone in the castle attempted to get some sleep in before the battle in the morning. Easier said than done for most.

Harry walked through the hallways, clutching the mysterious crystal flask that Narcissa had given him. He was exhausted, emotionally and mentally, over what was to transpire in a few hours. All his thoughts were centered on defeating Voldemort and freeing Draco. Nearly all of the horcruxes were destroyed now, save one. Then the bastard himself was next.

But first . . .

The stone gargoyle guarding the headmaster’s office eyed Harry as he approached. “Password?”  

Harry thought for a moment. “Dumbledore.”

The gargoyle slid aside, revealing the spiral staircase behind. Harry climbed the steps and entered the office, noting how all the portraits were sound asleep.

Harry couldn’t help but flick a glance at Dumbledore’s empty frame, which still hung directly in the middle of the wall, as he crossed the room towards the cabinet where the Pensieve lay inside. Harry heaved the round basin onto the desk and stepped in front of it, glancing inside at its emptiness. He opened the flask and poured in the memories of whom he’d assumed were Snape’s. He was about to find out for sure soon.

Before he went in, Harry had a moment of hesitation. He was about to see his old Potion Professor’s memories. The man who’d killed Dumbledore. The man who both Draco and Narcissa were adamant had acted accordingly in favor for the light side. Harry didn’t know what to think, who to believe, but as he stared at the silver white and strange memories, he had the odd thought of whether he’d see the man during the battle tomorrow. Feeling reckless abandonment, as usual, Harry dived in.

And he fell headlong into sunlight, his feet finding warm ground.

When Harry straightened, he found himself standing in the middle of a nearly vacant playground. Further ahead, he saw three figures. _Two girls were swinging backward and forward, and a skinny boy was watching them from behind a clump of bushes_ . . .

So many memories passed as Harry watched: Aunt Petunia, Lily, James, Sirius, their teasing of Snape, Lily abandoning Snape because of what he’d done, his joining the Death Eaters, Dumbledore, the prophecy, his parents’ murder, the _truth_.

When Harry finally rose up out of the Pensieve and moments later lay on the carpeted floor, his heart was hammering at everything he’d just witnessed.

The truth.

Harry was not supposed to survive.

His job had been to dispose of Voldemort’s last remaining links to humanity, and then offer himself up to die at the monster’s hands: Neither would live, neither could survive.

Raised like a pig for slaughter, Snape had crudely put it. But he’d been right.  

Would it hurt to die? Harry felt himself wondering through the vast blanket of coldness that suddenly seemed to envelope him.

All those times he’d confronted death and escaped, all for him to just walk toward and take it willingly.

Was it foolish of him to want to cry? Was it selfish of him? What’s one life compared to thousands, after all?

And then his heart plummeted even more when he thought of all that he’d lose. Hogwarts, his home, Hermione, Ron, the Weasleys, his friends, _Draco_. Oh Merlin, Draco.

Never mind Dumbledore’s betrayal to him, Harry had to die. Because of a much bigger plan. For the greater good. And while the incontrovertible truth swept through him — I must die, it must end — he was going somewhere Draco wouldn’t be able to follow.

Their journey together was over. It was so bitterly ironic. Harry had been so focused on saving his love, saving his friends, saving the wizarding world — and in his effort to save Draco all this time, Harry’s best chance to save everyone was to die.

_“I’ll win this war, Draco. I’ll defeat him. With you beside me. And then we’ll travel away together. Living the rest of our lives with each other. In our cottage.”_

_“With 2.5 children.”_

_“With lots of pets and a wide yard for a Quidditch field.”_

_“And we’ll grow old together . . .”_

_“We’ll grow old and fat, and we’ll be together until we die, holding hands.”_

Harry let out a strangled scream.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Short chapter, I know.  
> First, I wanted to say thank you for reading this story so much, I appreciate all my loyal readers! I apologize for not uploading as fast as usual, but life threw me some curve balls recently.  
> Hope you enjoy the short chapter and I hope you look forward to the next one. It will be much longer and include much more angst, as usual. Sorry, not sorry.  
> Happy Back to Hogwarts Day!! XxXx

**Author's Note:**

> Comments and kudos are much welcomed! Tell me what you think!!  
> XxXx


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